Everything
by The Sky Is Not Always Red
Summary: "My mother smelled like Scotch, my father smelled like Chanel, and the entire house reeked of misery and of everything in their marriage that had rotted inside." She smiled. It hardly seemed appropriate. KyoyaOC
1. Porcelain

REWRITE OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. I deleted the original, like a fuckin' idiot. This is GENERALLY chapter 1 of my story! Actually, I DID make some changes from the original, that I think make more sense so, it might even be better now.

Thank you to those who have been reading and reviewing thus far :D Enjoy my first Ouran story, Everything.

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><p>Chapter 1: Porcelain<p>

12:00 in the afternoon was still not the right time to wake up Ootori Kyoya.

In fact, anytime of the day, morning afternoon or night was not the appropriate time to wake him up. Nicknamed the Low Blood Pressure Dark lord, (or any other variation of the name) Kyoya rose according to _his _schedule, and _his _only. Anybody who wished to wake him up any earlier clearly had a death wish, or simply did not value their arms. To date, only a handful have survived the wrath of Kyoya after a good night's sleep (the ringleader of whom was Tamaki, who was so moronic, he wouldn't have even seen death coming.)

Perhaps all of the above was not _quite_ true, but exaggeration or not, Mei, a maid in the Ootori household, was terrified.

She knocked on the door and politely allowed herself in, as permitted by Yoshi, Kyoya's father. "Kyoya-san?" She beckoned. When she got no response, she called out, "Kyoya-san? It's time to get up."

Mei approached cautiously and reached out a hand to shake him, "Kyoya-san? It's 12:00 in the-"

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a rumbling groan. Kyoya had risen from his mattress, growling. She saw his pale, slender frame slouched in the darkness. A flash of glass told her he had put on his glasses.

"Is there a _reason_ for your waking me up, Mei-san?" He had a monstrous expression on his thin, normally handsome features.

"A-a-ano, w-w-well I came b-because, uh-"

"Excuse me?"

"W-well, I was sent to-!"

"State your reason!" he snapped, throwing an angry glance.

"Setsuko-sama is here!" Mei cried out and burst from the room, nearly in tears.

Another innocent escaped with their life...

Kyoya heaved a sigh of exasperation._ Really. These conversations would go much more efficiently if people knew how to speak properly. Maybe it's time for new servants. Males, perhaps._

However, it had been no shock that Setsuko had arrived. Her visits had been recurring over the course of a few months. The first couple of times, Kyoya had been suspicious, but after a certain deal of deliberations and several stages of denial, it had become clear. His father was always welcoming her into the Ootori home with open arms and inviting her on little social vacations. Kyoya was certain now. Setsuko was to be very important in his future.

It was fairly predictable, and Kyoya, as the observant boy he was, deduced it easily.

Although, anybody with common-sense could have come to the same conclusion that he had and he was surprised that Yoshio hadn't been more secretive.

He dressed himself, sharp as always, in black dress pants and a smooth white button-up. There were a few tactics that he'd picked up from the Host Club that he found very useful in these situations. For instance, he unbuttoned the top three buttons for decent exposure — risque enough for any high-class girl to believe she is defying her father, because of course, Kyoya knew very well that even the most spoiled, docile caged bird longed for a bit of _disorder _every now and then.

He emerged from his bedroom and was met with blinding sunlight pouring in from every orifice of the room. Normally, the curtains on his windows were drawn and he would use the ceiling light, but Setsuko always enjoyed the natural sun rays.

The maids greeted him with a, "Good morning, Kyoya-san," and bow, but they were extremely apprehensive — he must have exploded on each of them at one time or another. _Serves them right if they still have enough sense to wake me up unnecessarily._

A woman at the end was chattering quietly about what an honour it was to be in the presence of 'Setsuko-sama'.

He peered down over the glass railing to where the sitting area of his room was, on the floor below. There Setsuko was, perched like a lark on a branch on the cushion of his couch, daintily sipping on a glass of tea.

Abukara Setsuko was a natural bred beauty. She was much like Tamaki, only half Japanese and half American. She had long, curly blonde hair (always worn with her bangs clipped back with a silver hair brooch), electrifying blue eyes and peach skin. Setsuko was a small girl, Kyoya had discovered to be around 5'1. In several ways, she reminded him of a china doll. She wore conservative old English dresses and long silky gloves and white socks. She never exposed more than her face and knee.

Additionally, she didn't have a wide variety of facial expressions. In fact, just one: a vague smile, that was only visible in her lips. Her eyebrows did not raise and the corners of her eyes did not crinkle.

Today, she wore a red turtlenecked dress with an off-white ascot puffing up at the neck, with similar coloured gloves and stockings. Her frilly bonnet was folded on her lap. At that moment, he thought she looked especially like a porcelain doll; her eyes were glassy and her body was perfectly motionless — not a stand of hair out of place. Her face looked as though it had been painted on.

"Welcome," he called her attention. "It's been a while."

"Kyoya-san," her tiny, placid voice greeted. "It's so nice to see you.

After he descended the stairs, he bowed low before her and pressed his lips to her silken glove. "And you, Setsuko-san."

"It's too much. You're embarrassing me, Kyoya-san. How many times have I told you that it's quite alright to call me Setsuko?"

"Too many," he said. "My deepest apologies."

So, as routine, they sat on the couch while the maids served up a few courses of tea and crumpets (Setsuko was always fond of English pastries) while they spoke of mind-numbingly dull things. He found that she enjoyed discussing things that adults insisted on.

It was always, "My, what nice weather we're having," or "I've never had this tea before," or "Your house is quite marvelous." Kyoya always engaged her in those conversations to keep her entertained, but his mind was always elsewhere.

Somehow, they had begun talking about him.

"So, I hear you're starting in Ouran Academy in April? How exciting. I would have loved to join you," she said with a faint smile touching her rose lips. "Unfortunately I haven't been to school in a few years. I began my private tutoring at the age of ten."

Kyoya nodded appreciatively. "That's wonderful. All outstanding young ladies should have a tutoring experience tailored for them to become splendid young women. Not that you need the extra help, that is."

She tittered gently as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of her tea cup. "You flatter me too much," she said. "But still. Even if I were to attend Ouran, I imagine it would be quite lonely, as you are older than me."

"Not at all. I would never let you be lonely, Setsuko-san."

A blush rose to her otherwise fair cheeks and she fixed her sapphire eyes to the shag carpet.

_Target accomplished, _he thought haughtily to himself. _Much too easy. _However victorious, he couldn't smother the feeling that he had just sealed away his fate and any chance he had for deciding his own future.

Setsuko stayed for the rest of the afternoon and they made pleasant conversation (while Kyoya prayed the Host Club would stay miles away) until evening when Yuuji, Setsuko's father, came to pick her up.

"Kyoya-kun!" He burst when he entered the room. Yuuji was a rawboned man, unlike Yoshi (Kyoya's father). His business suits were nearly always draped on his lanky frame and his scruffy salt-and-pepper hair was always disheveled, flopping in peculiar shape. Sometimes, Yuuji arrived at the Ootori mainhouse looking refined and orderly, however, more often than not, he looked slovenly and frankly, neurotic. Nevertheless, he radiated a boisterous friendliness, not unlike Suoh Tamaki.

"Yuuji-san, it's nice to see you. You look well," Kyoya lied.

Yuuji cracked a grin. "I've come to pick up Setsuko, but forgive me, will you allow me to have a visit with your father? I haven't seen him in a while."

Kyoya knew quite well that this was a lie. He and his father had been best friends since elementary school and Yuuji made biweekly visits. This time, Kyoya had a nagging suspicion that they weren't having an innocent conversation.

_I suppose the arrangement I've been anticipating is about to be organized, _he thought. _Otherwise, Yuuji would have never come personally pick Setsuko up when he has all those personal city-cars at his disposal._

"Of course. Take your time, Yuuji-san. Setsuko-san and I were having a nice conversation, anyway."

The aged man's eyes flickered with delight as his small, off-focus pupils shifted between them. "I _see. _Excellent. I'll be seeing you then."

When he left, he and Setsuko remained in silence. While waiting, they didn't engage in any more conversation. Instead, they enjoyed the aromas of the oolong tea they were being served while Setsuko periodically said something dreamily and wispy, "Ne, Kyoya-san, I really quite like your room," to which he would reply, "Hmm."

Finally, after the clock ticked by twenty long minutes, Yuuji strolled back into the room and he and Setsuko bid Kyoya a polite farewell.

He figured he would be called for a conference with his father soon, so he sat down with a newspaper. Precisely thirty-two minutes later, a messenger told him that his father had summoned him.

* * *

><p>He was waiting for him, back toward the door, gazing out of his enormous window. Yoshio was a gaunt man with high cheek bones and a well groomed moustache which made him look distinguished. He was quite the dapper man with his sharp Versace glasses and Armani business suits for every occasion; he was so conservative that, in fact, even Kyoya couldn't recall the last time he had seen him without a jacket and tie. Although he had an air of youth around him, there were deep creases in his face like waterless riverbeds, and there were few streaks of silver in his tidy jet black hair.<p>

In every conceivable way, Yoshio was the precise portrait of a cutthroat business man, with the personality to match.

When he turned away from the window, his face was severe as always and he curtly said to Kyoya, "Sit now."

His son strode across the vast room. Yoshio's office seemed to match his atmosphere of the room. He had rich mauve curtains and royal green carpets; the furniture was oak, pricy and lavish. However, the majority of the office was open space. It intimidated Kyoya.

They both sat across from each other. The enervated desk lamp's golden light was not enough to illuminate his father's face which was shady, yet firm, firm like never before.

"Yuuji tells me that you and Setsuko are getting along famously," he said. "Would you agree?"

"Yes, father." Kyoya assumed his role as oblivious. _He'll ask me now. I'm sure of it._

Yoshio didn't twitch. "Excellent. In that case, Yuuji has requested that you take advantage of your good relationship with Setsuko to fulfill a certain role," he paused. "Her chaperone."

Now, he was genuinely surprised. "A chaperone, father?"

Without uttering another word, he opened a filing cabinet and browsed through several well-organized files until he drew out one small leather booklet, which was itself very tattered, and it had jagged pieces of paper spilling out of it. He slid it toward Kyoya.

Kyoya tentatively began to riffle through the pages.

All were newspaper and magazine clippings, all surrounding the Abukara family. However, most articles were themed around the 'fabulous, scandalous life of Abukara Setsuko.'

He'd seen these stories. It was uncommon to find anybody who hadn't.

Abukara Enterprises, once prosperous, untroubled but most of all, scandal-inconspicuous, got into hot-water when the media caught wind of the declaration of dissolution of Yuuji's marriage. He was married to an American woman named Maria approximately 2 years before Setsuko's birth. They divorced when she was 12.

There were three important details that had surfaced during the divorce and custody battle that landed them in a tough position: the first being that the reason for the divorce was Yuuji's infidelity. He had allegedly cheated several times throughout the marriage, with several different women.

The second detail was that Maria (ironically a church activist) was battling with alcoholism. Sources say that they had spotted her in disguise, intoxicated in red light district bars.

The third detail was the most publicized. In the furious custody battle, it was revealed that Setsuko was not Maria's child, but the product of an affair that Yuuji had. There had been a mad scramble for the real birth mother, and a surge of American women coming forth and claiming that Setsuko was their daughter.

In the end, unsurprisingly, they turned out to be con-artists attempting to reap benefits.

When the divorce was finalized, the judge saw Maria to be unfit of having a child and Setsuko had ended up with Yuuji, staying in his estate and after about 6 months, the scrutiny withered and died, as did most gossip stories, however, Abukara Enterprises struggled to rebound for the blunder and never really did fully recover.

Setsuko got a fair amount of publicity in all the commotion. Since she was a young child, people considered her a fashion icon as she made many appearances to celebrity events since the age of 5. She was a famous idol in both America and Japan, as she was a mixture. Once the divorce initialized, she gained the pity of her countrymen in both locations.

Unfortunately, about 2 years later, rumors began to fly about citizens spotting Setsuko on the streets of New York. Some claimed to have seen her at raves and parties, but no reliable sources.

A photo taken by some sleaze paparazzo was released in a popular American magazine that showed a blonde girl, around Setsuko's size and stature, mashed up against a large teenage boy in a leather jacket. The faces and details were blurred, and so, there was no solid evidence.

The media was divided into two opinions about her, but the predominant fraction believed she was guilty. Despite Abukara's efforts, these beliefs couldn't be quashed.

Soon enough, the press had painted an image of their family as a dysfunctional wreck; Yuuji as an enemy to women, Maria as a raging alcoholic and Setsuko as a rebel and a delinquent. Business had gone sour for the Enterprise.

All of this information raced through his mind as he thumbed through each clipping.

He had already known these details, as he researched Setsuko thoroughly a month ago as a preemptive strike.

Still, he was doubtful that these rumors were true.

He had never considered gossip and celebrity magazines to be pieces of non-fiction. They were always tampered with opinions and embellishments, so much that the real story was somehow lost in all the malicious interpretation.

As for as he was concerned, Setsuko, in person, was well-spoken and good-mannered and how he thought about it, it all seemed very fantasy. As he stared down at the photo of the sloppy girl, it was impossible to match it up with the porcelain doll that he knew.

In any case, he couldn't see what a rebellious daughter and a failed marriage had to do with a company, besides emotional instability and impaired judgement. As far as he knew, Yuuji kept his head throughout the ordeal.

"Abukara Enterprises is plummeting. Since the divorce, deals have been in a steady decline. The unwanted attention from the media is affecting sales at all locations. However unusual, the fickle minds of the people still refuse to discard the rumors," Yoshio said. "The scrutiny of the divorce was inevitable but the leakage of Setsuko's," his face twitched slightly with contempt. "_nightly _activities was unforeseen."

Yoshio shifted in his chair, leaning forward to stare Kyoya in the face. "Naturally, opportunity is shutting it's doors on Yuuji; a man who cannot take control of his family cannot be expected to control his empire."

_I get it... control the daughter, make the media forgive Abukara, _he resolved. _A stroke a genius._

"Seeing as Ootori Group has remained in the media's good graces, Yuuji and I have made the arrangement. You will be Setsuko's chaperone as she enters Ouran Academy in April. For maximum security, Setsuko will be placed in the mainhouse, effective immediately. Her room will be next to yours, no locks and no sound-proofing to insure that you have the upperhand."

_They treat her like a menace. She's miniature... _Kyoya nodded. "I understand, father." Even as he said he understood, a question still remained, _What does the Ootori have to gain? What's the benefit for us?_

Yoshio tented his fingers and continued to bore into his son with his piercing eyes. "You are expected to guide her, forcibly if necessary, away from all trouble. Trouble: defined as boys, parties, alcohol and _boys. _Furthermore, Yuuji insists that I stress that should _you _be the trouble that finds _her_, you will be severely punished. Is that clear?"

"Of course, father."

"I don't doubt you." His solid stare never wavered. "Setsuko has been described by past tutors and nannies as immensely burdensome. Most never lasted much more than 6 months. I must urge that you don't underestimate this challenge, I cannot stress this enough. Approach with all the friendliness of companion and all the strictness of a prison warden. She must be your first priority. Do you understand?"

Kyoya, although still baffled by how a little girl could be treated like a prison convict, bowed his head. "Yes. It will be of utmost importance."

Yoshio's ironclad expression still never faltered. He hadn't spoken but instead, paced back to his windowsill and fixed his eyes on the Ootori estate. Kyoya rose from his seat and made for the door when he heard his father utter, "Be cautious. Remember, do not underestimate her."

He smirked. "Yes, father."


	2. Fishnet Stockings

A/N: Hello dere! I hope you all read and enjoyed the first installment of 'Everything'! Again, it's my first Ouran story so I would love to get some feedback! Reviews are just lovely support! Keep me motivated! I would really appreciate some constructive criticism so that I can become a better writer! If there's anything you think I need to improve on, you're welcome to share. :)

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><p>Chapter 2: Fishnet Stockings<p>

The blonde-headed, dress-wearing, troublemaker didn't stand a chance against the Shadow King.

If anybody could whip a person into shape, it would be Kyoya.

He already deemed his assignment as a success. How hard could babysitting be?

However, as a precaution, he was prepared. All of the necessary information was stored in his mind already. He had researched Setsuko, Yuuji and Maria the very moment he noticed that Setsuko's visits were becoming frequent. The only problem was that it couldn't compute in his head as to _why _a merger would be arranged between the Ootori Group and Abukara enterprises.

Abukara, in most of their business ventures, were concerned with entertainment and the social aspect of the world. They had come into prominence because of their hotel chain, but from there, branched out in many different directions. They had their own brand of wine, a banquet hall used to throw high-class balls and parties for the social elite of Japan, and a series of popular exclusive nightclubs that appealed to spoiled rich kids.

They were known for supporting the arts. Abukara would make investments in the construction of theatres and art galleries, and in the past 3 years, have made several generous donations to promote children and teenage involvement in theatre and music.

Not one of these things had any relevance to the Ootori Group.

_What are you thinking, father? _Kyoya chewed at the end of his pen. _What are you getting out of this?_

At the moment, he was sitting at his desk, budgetting for the Host Club's expenses for the next month. The budget was large enough to support Hunny-senpai's sweet tooth. As usual, sales were going swimmingly.

The newest item he managed to put together was a calendar that featured each of the hosts (though it was slightly obvious that a couple of Haruhi's photos were taken unwillingly, but they were effective nonetheless.)

Kyoya smirked and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. _Girls will fall for anything. It never fails to amuse me how they'll pay money straight out of their pockets for a photo of Mori-senpai drinking tea, _he thought while absent-mindedly skimming through the latest edition of '12 months of Springtime with the Host Club!'

_Leave it to Tamaki to come up with the ridiculous name like that._

After chuckling to himself at the idiocy of the king of the Host Club, he paused for a long moment, fixated on a photo of the twins. _Women are women... it makes one wonder..._

He cracked open his laptop, deciding it was time for his journal entry of the day. For years, he'd been keeping detailed accounts of his everyday activities. It was good for maintaining steady progress. He opened his long-running document.

**Father tells me I'll be chaperoning Abukara Setsuko. I was expecting a marriage but this is decidedly better. Father says not to underestimate my mission.  
>Pros: Setsuko is quiet, polite and small. Very small.<br>Cons: May be hiding something unexpected.  
>I wonder if perhaps the Host Club might have an effect on her.<strong>

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><p>When Yoshio had said, 'effective immediately', it was no bluff.<p>

It was only the next morning that the moving company delivered Setsuko's things, began to unload the truck and transport all furniture to her room. For this occasion, Kyoya woke up early and prepared himself for the day. It was when he was instructing the moving men that he heard the piping of a tiny voice.

Setsuko was dishing out orders to the moving men. "Oh please, do be careful with that! It's expensive!"

The young boy sauntered to her side and lightly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Setsuko-san. Your things will be dealt with very carefully. There's no need to fuss," he said. "Would you like to come inside for tea?"

"You charm me too much. I wouldn't like any tea as of now, thank you," she responded with a graceful smile. For some reason, the drunken image of her traipsing around the city of New York had become blurry now, in Kyoya's mind, almost non-existent. Such a lady was not capable of such things.

_Don't get carried away, _Kyoya chastised himself. _She's like a criminal. Probably a master of disguise._

"Let me show you to your room," he offered. Like gentleman and lady, she grasped him by the arm and he escorted her to her room. It was indeed extravagant - Yoshio had made it so to appease her. Her bed was a grand king-sized bed with a canopy that hung blue opaque drapes.

She seemed delighted to no end. "It's wonderful! I really should thank your father!" Setsuko lied down on the bed and giggled gleefully. Like a child. Like a pampered child. _Are we supposed to believe that she's a menace?_

"Thank you, Kyoya-san. I'm glad that we'll be living in the same house," she beamed. "Let's become good friends, okay?"

"I would be more than happy to."

Setsuko stood and smoothed out her long dress (today was yellow with a pink sash and corsage over her left breast.) Then she took a stroll around the room while the moving men piled in her various lamps and precious items. "I'm glad that we'll become close. My father tells me you have a club at school? I would really like to get you know all your friends as well. Otherwise, I'm afraid that school will be terribly lonely..."

Kyoya pressed his hand against his heart and bowed. "I would never let that happen, Setsuko-san."

"You really are very kind, Kyoya-san. I thank you for being so nice about me intruding in your house and being a burden."

"No thanks necessary," he said and waved a hand of dismissal and flashed the cleanest business smile he could conjure. "You are always welcomed here. This is your new home."

Her cheeks flushed brilliantly and she ripped her eyes away from his intent gaze. "It's too much. You're embarrassing me, Kyoya-san," Setsuko chimed. Kyoya scrutinized her from behind his glasses, looking for a hole in her well-assembled facade. She was simply too charming. That in itself was a flaw.

"Don't be afraid to call me when you need me. After all, Setsuko-san, my room is right next to yours. I'm quite sure that if you are in need of assistance, I will be _right there_," Kyoya masked it with a pretty smile but it was unmistakably, a threat.

"Is there something wrong? Kyoya-san?"

"Of course not. I just thought you would like to know that when the Ootori's have a guest, we offer our _full _attention. Any less would be unacceptable. You understand."

Setsuko seemed befuddled by this sudden venom she sensed from him but grinned hesitantly regardless. "I would expect nothing less."

* * *

><p>Dinner hadn't been especially eventful. For this evening, Yoshio joined the dinner table, whereas usually he would have food brought to his office where he would be working overtime. Seldom did he have dinner with Kyoya, only when company was over.<p>

Kyoya's two older brothers were present as well, mostly keeping tight-lipped unless spoken to. Strangely, the one doing the most talking was Yoshio himself.

That night, he'd acted pleasant (as pleasant as he could get) and immersed himself in a conversation with Setsuko, concerning her father's business. Setsuko expressed her gratitude several times in her sweetest, most delicate little voice, "Thank you so much for putting me up. It means a lot and I'm glad to be living in a house with such kind people."

To which he replied, "The pleasure is ours."

The evening continued based around Setsuko. He dared not mention her mother, nor the scandalous articles. He was at least _that _respectful. However, while most of the night, his face remained as expressionless as ever, Kyoya observed his father carefully and found that quite a few times, a hint of abhorrence passed over his features.

Yoshio stared at her as if she were an insect. Like a parasite hitching itself to the Ootori name.

_If father harbors so much dismay for her, why does he insist that we go out on a limb to protect the Abukara image for no apparent benefit? _Kyoya muddled over that thought the entire evening.

Soon, after dessert had been served (which she was unnaturally happy about), Yoshio resigned and said he had to go back to work, at which point, his two oldest sons followed suit. They departed, leaving Kyoya and Setsuko alone.

"Ne, Kyoya-san, do you like desserts?"

"Not particularly."

The blonde was apparently stunned. "Really? How odd. I always thought it was impossible for anybody not to love sweets," she remarked, dipping her spoon into the heap of strawberry icecream. She pressed the spoon to her tongue and hummed with joy. "Delicious!"

_At a time like that... even _I _can admit that she has her charm._

A successful first dinner left Kyoya feeling satisfied. The two parted and went into their respective rooms. Kyoya closed the door to his room and let the silence engulf him. Suddenly, homelife had become a trifle more complicated. Between juggling the host club, impressing his father and now, chaperoning a some sort of little princess, things were busy. Kyoya had learned to fully treasure the moments of silence that involved only he and his pillow.

He had a mad urge to just collapse on the floor and regain the sleep he lost in the daytime but forced it to subside long enough for a brief journal entry.

**Day one was easy. Setsuko seems to be extremely well-mannered. If all goes well, perhaps she won't give the Host Club much trouble after all. It remains unclear as to how a gentle young lady of her sort would be involved in any party business. Next steps : monitor any suspicious behaviour.**

He slowly eased himself on to his bed and, with a full stomache, allowed himself to dose off.

At that time, he began to have a bizarre dream that involved him eating mountains and mountains of ice cream. Setsuko lay on a velvetty sofa in a flowing dress, simply watching with an amused smile the whole time. At some point she was saying something very peculiar, but he couldn't exactly recall...

When he awoke from that, about an hour later, he was feeling unsettled and abnormally hot. However, it didn't last very long (his peaceful naps never do.) He only rested his fatigued eyes for a half an hour before it was disrupted by a thump he heard from down the hall.

_How strange, _he thought. The sound came from the direction of Setsuko's room. He contemplated ignoring the sound but there he had an insistent itch, telling him to go check on her._I'm most likely overthinking these things. It wouldn't hurt to investigate._

Kyoya moved swiftly down the hall, careful to make not a sound. Setsuko's door was shut.

He turned the knob and inched it open, hearing a quiet groaning from the hinges. He peaked an eye in and saw that she was not in the room.

_Impossible._

He threw open the door and stormed in. "How did she get out?" Right after saying it, he noticed that the window was wide open and a flashlight was left blinking on the ledge. Kyoya advanced towards the window with balled up fists - but stopped. He'd heard a noise. Coming from the... closet?

"Setsuko-san," he called out.

The closet door slowly slid open and out popped, not a face, but a pair of legs. A pair of slender, curvy legs wrapped in skintight fishnet stockings. Kyoya heard a mischievous giggle. She slunk out of the closet on hands and knees.

"Shoot, looks like I was caught," she pouted. "But it was so hard not to make a noise when you're making such a funny face!"

Setsuko laughed, loud and hearty, rolling onto her back and sprawling out on the carpet.

Kyoya blinked incredulously at this sight. "Setsuko-san... are you perhaps, drunk?"

"Eh? That's so mean! I'm not drunk. This is me. But you knew that, didn't you?" Setsuko raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Kyoya-kun... We both know that you're much too smart to be fooled by me. You've seen the magazines, haven't you? I'm a _bad girl_. There was just no point in hiding it anymore."

Her true nature was finally revealed. The photo in the magazine finally matched up with the women before him. He was still in a state of disbelief but it was there. The undeniable truth. Abukara Setsuko, showing off her body, laying on the floor - giving him this intensely flirty look.

Now that the legend was confirmed, a determined Kyoya wasn't about to let a girl like this trample all over him. "Setsuko-san, I'm not quite sure what you mean. What, exactly, have I caught you doing?"

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I was doing, don't you, Kyoya-kun?" She smiled and tittered once again.

"Sneaking out on the first night," he sucked air in through his teeth. "Are you sure this wasn't a half-baked scheme in the last second? It wasn't very smart for someone who is supposedly an expert in this type of thing."

The girl sat up and twirled her hair around her pinky. "Hmm. I suppose not. But I had to get out of this house. I felt like it was literally sucking my energy. It's just so _boring _in here. Your colours are _boring _and your food is _boring_ and your father is _boring_ but you," she winked. "are a boring glasses freak. At least you aren't too bad on the eyes..."

She was beyond any doubt, getting on his nerves. Her lurid way of speaking, the way her eyes were travelling his body - the way she bit her lip. With a clenched jaw, he kept his composure.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir."

He was feeling a certain pressure while being gawked at by such desirous eyes. He made a quick change of subject. "What was that thump I heard earlier?"

Setsuko drummed her fingers against her chin. "That was a box I dropped. Pardon my clumsiness. All of my street clothes were sealed away in a box. My daddy doesn't want me to have them. He says they aren't fit for a lady..."

She smirked.

"But you disagree, right, Kyoya-kun? You think this suits me, right?" She struck a suggestive pose and emphasized her bulging chest which had become hard for him to ignore.

_How shameless. Can a girl like this really be our age? _"To be frank, I don't care what you wear."

"Eh? Even if I was to wear nothing at all?"

This girl was getting fresh. Her sweet sounding sarcasm was becoming a burden on his mind. In all his years, he'd encountered many difficult people with problematic personalities but something was unique. From the tip of her toes to the top of her golden head, she appeared as everything the media had said, and worse. But her eyes never failed. They were playful and enticing - but at the same time, they were concrete. No matter how hard Kyoya stared her down, they remained unchanging.

"Setsuko-san, I apologize for whatever inconvenience I may cause you but I cannot permit you to leave this building without accompaniment."

"So, come with me. We could have a good time."

"I decline," came his curt reply.

She frowned. "Oh my goodness. I was right, you are the most boring part of this house. Always following daddy's orders. It's adorable," as she said this however, a devious look came across her face. "Mm. But it doesn't matter if you're boring. I can fix that," she got to her feet and strolled over to him. Setsuko snaked her arms up around his neck. "You know, it doesn't have to be like this between us. Tense and hostile. We don't have to be enemies. In fact, we could be _very _good friends. Remember you said before that we would be? You could stop me from being lonely - and we could both get some bad... _rug burn_."

She pushed her body against his and toussled his sleek hair with her dainty fingers. "Setsuko-san, what is it that you would like me to do?"

"Kiss me, glasses freak."

_This girl is so blunt. Or perhaps, it's only a bluff._

"I decline."

There was a long pause. Then, she burst into a laughing fit, releasing Kyoya. "Wh-what is that? I decline? You really are adorable. You know how to break a girl's heart," she said. "But that's okay. You aren't really my type. In fact, I think I would rather _die _than be attached to a boring boy like you."

He pursed his lips. Enduring her personality was becoming tiresome. Suddenly, he became aware of just how sleepy he was. Just how heavy his eyelids were, how hard his head was throbbing. Something told him that babysitting Setsuko was going to be one giant headache, anyways.

"Is that so? Well, it's quite unfortunate for you then, that I am your chaperone. No matter how boring I am, it is necessary that I monitor your actions. A direct request from your father," Kyoya calmly explained.

"Oh please. Don't speak to me as if I don't already know why I'm here," she responded as equally calm. "My father said that I am going to live with the Ootori's for rehabilitation. Rehabilitation! Oh, how rich. He's been treating me like I'm possessed! Reading me the bible, replacing all of my clothes with those nun dresses. He thinks being here is going to 'cleanse' me. Like this is some church and you're some saint. Mind you, you are a model child. Just not a miracle worker."

He droned through slightly parted lips. "It isn't about miracle working. It's about discipline."

"And that mentality is the very reason he would love to have you as a son. He even told me that it would be excellent for this arrangement to result in an engagement! What an amusing concept, don't you think?"

"Indeed," he beamed, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "That would be quite impossible!"

Setsuko mocked an offended expression. She slammed back hard against the creme coloured wall. "You really wanna hurt my feelings, don't you?"

"That was not my intention, but I must say Setsuko-san, that I don't care. I am not here to be your friend nor am I here to comfort you. I am here to keep you in line. You understand."

She inspected him for a long while. Kyoya was no longer smiling; not scowling. Just an undaunted expression. "Hmm... I got on your nerves, didn't I?"

"Not especially."

"How boring."

There was an unusual silence. Neither of them moved a step - not even a twitch. Finally, she surrendered. She stepped into her closet for a few moments and returned in a thin nightgown (eerily similar to the one Kyoya saw in his dream) and crawled into her bed. It was a funny sight to watch such a petite girl climb into a king-sized bed that was several times too big for her. It made her look childlike - especially when she curled into a tiny lump beneath her lavender blankets.

"Ne, Kyoya-kun?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you standing there?"

He shoved his hand in his pocket and ran the other through his scruffy hair. "You haven't given me a reason to trust you. How am I to know you aren't going to sneak out the moment I leave the room?"

"Is that the truth? Or would you just like to get in bed with me? I'm fine with that too..."

Kyoya scoffed quietly. "Goodnight, Setsuko-san," and with that, left the room and hurriedly made his way back to his own bedroom which, after such an irksome night, had never been more appealing.

He shut the door behind him. Although there was still a sharp pain inside his skull that demanded sleep, he opened his laptop and read over his previous entry. _What foolish thinking_. He erased every single letter.

**Day one. I was wrong. Devils do exist.**


	3. Sweet

A/N: Third installment of 'Everything!' Again, please read and review! This is actually surprisingly fun to write. However, my summer is wasting away slowly. It's quite sad actually! I don't want to go back to school. I mean, all that homework? I just do NOT have the motivation to go through that emotional rollercoater every night. So for now, I'll enjoy the rest of my care-free summer!

PLEASE REVIEW.

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><p>Chapter 3: Sweet<p>

**It's been seven days. It feels as though I've aged by 10 years. Setsuko has yet again tried another escape route. This time, it was crawling out of the tiny window in the basement. That exit has been blocked off as well. If this continues, I may run out of resources and man power to block off her options. So far, it's been :**

**-Her bedroom window  
>-The kitchen window<br>-The balcony of the servant's quarters  
><strong>**-My own bedroom window (I am still trying to comprehend _how _she thought this would work)  
><strong>**-The bathroom window  
>-Hopping over the backyard fence<br>-And now the tiny window in the basement.**

**She acts like a deranged prisoner each time she is caught. It is unfathomable how she still believes that there is an escape from this house... it is strange that while she has an intelligent voice and a certain amount of good sense, she lacks the strategy necessary to break out. Nevertheless, this morning, I've appointed guards to tighten up the premises. It seems security cameras aren't nearly enough. However, I caught her bribing the guards 15 minutes later.**

**I am at the end of my wits.**

On the eighth night, at approximately 10:00 pm, Kyoya patrolled the hallways like a vigilant hawk. All lights were out. Setting up the trap. A house absorbed in silence and given the veil of darkness, Setsuko is sure to take the bait. The difficult part was predicting which exit she would take a chance on. Kyoya was half-worried that she would try parachuting off the roof.

He crept around each corner, dressed in dull colours so as to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. _The effort I'm putting into this girl, honestly. Father was too vague when he called her 'troubled.' Had I known that I would need to call in the CIA to look after her, I would have taken my bows then._

The sound of a heel scuffing against the carpet rung through Kyoya's ears. He squinted around the corner to peek into the other corridor. He spotted Setsuko kneeling down on all fours, pressing her stomach to the floor and trying to worm her way to the window.

Of course. That window, and several others in this corridor, had a small ledge in which tiny gardens of delicate white flowers flourished. Just beneath this particular window was a tremendous triangular trellis that had vines and buds woven in and out of it's gaps. It was quite clear that she was planning to shimmy down the wooden structure and make a frantic dash for the gates.

Kyoya gripped his walkie-talkie and muttered in his grainy voice, "Target spotted, please hold for further instructions, over."

Setsuko surreptitiously peered left. Then right. Then she bolted for the window!

She was fumbling with the lock when he seized her wrist.

"Taking another night stroll, are we?"

"As are you," she let out an exasperated sigh. "So what? Are you going to throw me over your shoulder and force me back into my room like last time? If so, I must insist that you be more gentle. I think you broke my rib last night. Although, just for your information, I don't _mind _being rough sometimes."

He ground his teeth (which had seemed to become a habit of stress caused by none other than Setsuko herself.) "Please stop these ridiculous shenanigans. It's becoming quite a chore. I'm sure you've gotten the message that this place is a fortress. You won't escape without notifying somebody. Hasn't it become clear?"

She gave Kyoya a sullen look. "My, my. Aren't you harsh? How do you know I'm not making excuses for you to put your hands on me?"

"If that's the case, then I'll make it a point of having one of the new guards tackle these problems. Perhaps the female," he said spitefully.

"What makes you think it makes a difference to me whether they're a man or a woman?" Setsuko said in a bemused sort of voice, but it had a cruelly taunting undertone. "You don't think I've had my share of relationships with women? Can't you imagine it?"

He inhaled deeply. _I should be more mindful not to fall into these traps. _"Do you know what I'm really interested in? Why is it that you insist on making an escape every single night when it will most likely result in my dragging you back to your room?"

As if this were a completely preposterous question, she answered, "How am to know if it is a failure if I don't try?"

He never anticipated such an answer. But what was truly astonishing was the honest expression on her face. Setsuko was no longer playful - she wasn't angry; just _so _earnestly believing in those words that it was not a laughing matter. Still, amongst her seriousness, there seemed to be a glint of hope in her eye.

Kyoya was disconcerted. "Well, you've tried quite a few times. Why do you continue?"

"Haven't you ever heard of perseverance?"

"Haven't you ever heard of stubbornness?"

She puffed up her cheeks. "Sometimes stubbornness is a virtue. As is selfishness. As is recklessness. If everybody were to look at these qualities as negatives without exception, then nobody would be anywhere in life. You'll find, Kyoya-kun, that not everything is intended to be calculated."

_How surprising. _He was left speechless by the power in her voice. Such a commanding voice. For once, something that she said left an impression on him. He took a few moments to let such an intriguing notion sink in. 'Not everything is intended to be calculated' was an idea so radically different from the ideals that had been pounded into his mind from day one.

"That's a very interesting perspective... however, we cannot ignore the situation, can we? Are you going to cooperate?"

"Depends. What are you going to do? If it's you, you can do anything you want with me."

He was not amused. For a split second, he'd thought he'd seen a refreshing side of this girl, as opposed to the erratic devil-may-care person that she usually was. _It was probably just my imagination. A trick of the light. Playing games is all that's on her mind._

Seeing how vexed the Ootori boy looked, Setsuko shook her head. "Listen, Kyoya-kun," she shoved her hands in her pockets. "This may not make you very comfortable but you should put a little faith in me. Come with me. Let's go out for tonight. You never have fun. We'll take it easy since you're a beginner."

"That would be a betrayal of my father and yours."

"A parent must learn when to set their children free. Tonight - betray. Just once. We won't go to a club or a college. You can have my word."

He snorted. "And of what value is your word?"

"Just for tonight. We'll stay out of trouble. There's nothing wrong with having a good time," she said. "Why can't you make a decision for yourself?"

"It would be a foolish one," he snapped. "And if I were to give in to this, would I not be allowing _you _to make my decisions for me? That hardly seems like a wise plan."

She giggled. "Kyoya-kun, won't you let yourself have a good time...? And if you're so insistent that you won't have a good time, accompany me. I've never been out into the city at night time. Be a proper chaperone. Make sure I don't get to rowdy... please?"

Kyoya was skeptical of her innocence, knowing that it was irrefutably a guise (no matter how alluring.) _Perhaps it isn't a bad idea. Take her out one night and get on her good graces. Perhaps she won't be so defiant. There is benefit, after all._

"I suppose I could manage. So long as we walk out the _front door_."

Setsuko was ecstatic. Like a child who was just given an flashy present, she clasped her hands together and twirled around enough times to make Kyoya's eyes cross. This was one of the few pleasant moments with Setsuko - when her personality switches in an instant from some demon child to Haninozuka-senpai's naive nature. Still, it was a bit off-putting, how she could undergo such a transformation in a matter of seconds. Perhaps Setsuko had many more faces.

* * *

><p>It had rained earlier that afternoon. The streets were very much soggy.<p>

"Take a picture of me!"

Setsuko modeled in front of a random building, hands behind her head and entangled into her yellow hair. Kyoya reluctantly snapped a photo using Setsuko's very expensive iphone. _Suppose she's used to modelling after being bombarded with paparazzi at every moment. _He examined the picture. She really was something of a professional when it came to putting on a performance. The photo depicted a wholesome American girl on a night out in Japan with no ill-intentions and a harmless smile. She wore a modest off the shoulder sweater and Abercrombie and Fitch jeans. Even had a limp ribbon tied into the ringlets in her hair.

_Master of disguise, indeed, _he smirked.

"Kyoya-kun," she goaded. "You shouldn't make such strange faces while staring at my photo. You might accidentally give me the wrong idea."

He dismissed her teasing and wrapped his arm around her. Before she could made a snide comment, he said, "Please bear with it. If I do this, I can effectively ward off any boys searching for trouble."

"Is that all? You mean you don't want to touch me?" Setsuko batted her eyelashes. Kyoya swallowed, starting to feel uneasy at her distance; close enough so that he could see the details of her face. She cracked a smile. "Relax. I'm only joking. Didn't I tell you I'm not interested in boring boys?"

He simpered. "Isn't that the problem? If I take my eyes off of you for a second, you'll run off to find someone of interest," he stated. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

She snorted and urged him forward.

For a long while, they rambled around the city. Kyoya quickly discovered that, although she was infamous for being a New York walker, she was enamored with all of the lights like some inexperienced child. Several times, she took photographs of the illuminated buildings and twinkling streets. Once, she even halted on the sidewalk to take a photograph of a puddle of collected rainwater that was shimmering iridescently.

They strolled along peacefully, weeding in and out of the flurries of people. The city was still very much alive at night time. People from all different ends of the wealth spectrum. Suited-up business men, delinquents (many of which Setsuko flirted with, much to Kyoya's chagrin) and even a couple of teenage girls holding birthday present skipped past them. Then, there was the two of them; a couple of filthy rich kids.

"Funny. I imagined your nights out a tad more wild," he joked.

It was only a joke. But Setsuko for a moment had a crazed gleam in her eyes. "So this is too tame for Kyoya-kun?"

"I don't remember saying anything of the sort."

"But you should already have me figured out by now, being the genius that you are," she smirked. "Saying something as ambiguous as that will always be perceived as a challenge in my eyes."

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. Somehow, in spite of having a danger alarm ring off in his mind, he was curious to see her in the environment for which she was famous for dwelling in. It could be interesting to observe her typical behaviour.

"I don't hear any objections. I suppose you asked for it," she hummed giddily, hauling him down the street by the elbow.

For the first time that night, she seemed to have a specific route (which was quite impossible, considering she had never seen this city at night). Some how or other, they ended up on a residential street, standing in front of a fairly large house that was pumping out music and was teeming with teenagers, practically falling out of windows.

"How did you know there would be a party here?" He asked, pushing up his glasses.

"I just followed those girls," she shrugged. "They're teenagers. I said we wouldn't hang out with college students. Never said a word about kids our own age."

He grimaced. "We shouldn't go in there."

Setsuko released him. "Kyoya-kun. I was under the impression that you would never back down from a challenge. Consider this a challenge. _Show_ me you can roll with the best," her eyes egged him on. This _was_ a challenge. "You know I've gained a _lot _of respect for you tonight.

_How funny, since I've lost much respect for me tonight. _

"We'll go," as soon as he uttered those bitter words, her face lifted and she dashed toward the house.

Inside, they were instantly met with a loud blur. Commoner teenagers being teenagers. Due to attending a prestigious school filled with straight-edges, this scene was unfamiliar to Kyoya. They were dancing, drinking, yelling, kissing all meshed together in one tumultuous mess. He'd never seen such savage behaviour!

The girl beside him howled like a starved wolf. "These are my people!" She threw her hands above her head.

"Aren't you worried about being recognized?" Kyoya struggled to speak above the music

Without a taking a moment to second-think, she flowed to the rhythm around the room. She picked up a fiery red hat from a girl (who was looking a tad green in the face, thus, didn't care) and a pair of sunglasses right from the face of a boy making out with his girlfriend against the wall (who also, needless to say, did not care). She then stuffed all of her flaxen hair into the hat.

"Problem solved," she winked looking over the top of the sunglasses. "Enjoy yourself, Kyoya-kun!"

As if it were her natural habitat, like the cradle she was nursed in from birth, Setsuko dove directly into the heart of the crowd. In an instant, she had vanished.

_It seems she hasn't completely grasped the concept of having a chaperone, _he crushed his molars against eachother. He truly believed that this girl would give him premature wrinkles. Gray hair by 20 years, at the very least.

He wandered into the kitchen, which seemed to be the only sanitary room remaining in the house. He irritably picked at small sharp pieces of stale tortillas sitting in front him in a glass bowl, brooding over the most strategic way to find her in the sea of people (and the most creative way to kill her subsequently).

The thumping music was screwing with his mind. He massaged his temples. The music he enjoyed was smooth jazz. Relaxing music. Music to breathe to.

_This_ music was giving him a pulsing headache.

And as if the music weren't enough, he was pretty sure the boy in a toque behind him just vomited in the sink. _Vomited. _In the _sink_.

It didn't take very long for a small group of tipsy girls to emerge from the crowd and spot Kyoya standing off by himself. "Ne, we haven't seen you around school," one brunette flashed him a toothy smile. "You seem older. College?"

Before he could speak, her friend interjected. "It doesn't matter if you're older, right? We can still play."

_An entire house full of girls exactly like Setsuko. How utterly frightening. _In return, he smiled back. "Actually, I came here with my girlfriend. She's wearing a red hat and sunglasses. Have you seen her?"

"Eh? That's your girlfriend," one of the girls snickered. "She's a real cutie. She's in there, drinking some hopeless guy under the table. You better go get her. You never know what care-free girls will do when they're drunk." They all laughed.

"Please take me to her."

The girls lead him through the muster of people, to the core of the party. Boys and girls mashed up against each other, dancing to the beat with no spaces in between. There was Setsuko, holding a bottle of beer to the sky and singing loudly along to the music.

Kyoya bit his cheek to refrain from erupting. _Keep composure_. "Setsuko-san," he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ky-o-ya-kun," she cooed. "You finally found me! Oh! Guess what - they have karaoke!"

"We've been here a half an hour and you're already drunk?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I can hold my alcohol. I'm not _totally_ drunk... yet," she said cheerfully. "Hmm, but by the time I'm finished with this bottle, I might be."

He sighed. _What a troublesome situation. _He unhinged Setsuko's hand from the bottle and guzzled it all down until every last drop of the burning alcohol had slid down his throat. "Then, this should be fine, shouldn't it? Considering you promised to stay out of trouble tonight."

The blonde girl stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I'm not touching any boys, am I? Although, I could touch _you_ if you'd like..."

Kyoya scoffed and smiled coyly. "I decline."

"Is that so? If that's the case, then I would like another drink. _Something _should keep me entertained," she said. "Besides, don't you believe it's time for a toast?"

Setsuko robbed a half-empty bottle of beer from an unsuspecting passer-by (who gawked at her as if she were insane) and without any protests from Kyoya, who's curiosity held his lips firmly shut, hoisted herself up on the table nearest to the karaoke machine and demanded possession of the microphone. The music blasting from the speakers died down. "Attention! Attention! I'd like to propose a toast!"

_Nobody could possibly be this senseless._

"T-to the birthday girl! Kazumi-chan, the most beautiful 16 year old in Japan tonight!" She sloshed the drink up in the air and was followed by all other party patrons. "Happy Sweet Sixteen! I love you, girl!"

The crowd exploded into cheers. Setsuko, with the smug look of satisfaction, hopped off the table and swayed back over to Kyoya.

"So, you've met this girl?"

"Nope. Not once."

...

"So," she tossed the hat and glasses to the floor. "We better run if we don't wanna get caught!"

The two of them cast their faces to the floor, cut right through the crowd and bolted for the door (leaving behind about one hundred confused party-goers). He seriously doubted her sobriety as she collided with a boy doing a tequila shot, spilling the alcohol all down her shirt and his. "Sh-shit!" She spluttered out giggles.

They managed burst out the door just as Setsuko burst out into an uncontrollable laughing fit. She seized Kyoya's hand and jetted down the street, dashing through many puddles along the way. The two of them were doused from the shin down by the time they left the residential area. They ended up doubled over and panting wedged in the alley between the walls of an electronics repair shop and a convenience store.

"We didn't have to run, you know."

She dabbed at her forehead with the sleeve of her sweater. "But it's just more fun that way..."

_It seems she corresponds with the same sunny mentality of the King. Such a person with a cheerful outlook would surely be obliterated in the business world, _he thought bitterly. He eased himself down onto the pavement and leaned against the wall.

Setsuko breathed in deep. "Smell that. The night air in spring. Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kyoya wasn't lying. Despite how much Tamaki romanticized the springtime, Kyoya had to admit that it was his favorite season. The air was crisp and the streets were watery at nighttime but positively glowing in the afternoon. And of course, spring was the season that the Host Club would wrap up all their supplies and be outside instead, for it would be a shame to waste such pretty afternoons.

Even though it was all a money making ploy, what with the wide-spread belief of spring time being the most passionate season, it was a secret pleasure to be able to do his Host Club activities bathed in warmth beneath the cherry-blossom trees that were in full bloom around that time of year.

They stewed in quietness as many minutes passed; his ears ringing and her breathing still harsh.

"Alcohol. You smell like alcohol," Kyoya said. He pointed at her sweater. "It's drenched."

"I suppose it is. It's my own carelessness. What can you do," she fluffed her hair.

He shook his head and lifted his own sweater above his head, revealing his plain white t-shirt. He handed it to her.

"Eh? But won't you be cold?"

Kyoya adjusted the frames of his glasses. "We can't have you waltzing into the Ootori main house reeking of tequila. Wear that for now."

Setsuko finally agreed and as she began to remove her sweater, noticed that Kyoya had turned around.

"U-unbelievable..." she uttered.

"Is there a problem?"

"No..." her hands were trembling. "No problem."

She unpeeled the dank sweater from her body and slipped on Kyoya's. She gave him told him the coast was clear and by the time he turned around, she had her arms wrapped around her torso.

"Hehe," Setsuko chuckled uneasily. "No boy has ever turned around while I changed before... it shocked me."

Without missing a beat, "In that case, it seems you've been spending time with the wrong type of boys."

To his surprise, she didn't comment.

Instead she took a long whiff of the sweater. "It smells just like you. It's sweet."

Just watching her breathe in his scent, Kyoya felt as though he was intruding on something private, considering Setsuko seemed not to take further notice of his presence.

"We should return to the Ootori estate. It's been quite a night, thanks to you," he scolded and lifted himself up from the crumbling asphalt, offering his hand to help her up.

"Yes," she grinned. "Thank you."


	4. Prostitution

A/N: Hello! This story is really fun to update :D School! School is fast approaching (actually becoming quite depressed about it,) but here it is anyway! By the way, I would really appreciate some reviews! Just so I know if this is any good or not. Without the opinion of an impartial source, I be feelin' all insecure over here :( Anything. Even if it's negative, I would be happy to recieve it! So, this is the fourth installment of 'Everything!' Please enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 4: Prostitution<p>

"Terrible."

"I would have assumed at this point, you would be more adaptable."

"Nobody is adaptable to this - th-this mess."

"Surely, you exaggerate."

She tugged at the puffy, marshmallow-like sleeves. She yanked at the white collar and the stringy red tie. "At least when my father picks out my outfits, he asks a fashion consultant to do it, so I don't look like an idiot."

Kyoya scribbled on his clipboard for a few more moments then clutched it to his chest, lying down on his bed. "It's a uniform. A school uniform, no less. First and foremost, your clothes are not relevant to your studies or focus in class, nor should they hinder such. I believe _that _is a school uniform's main selling-point and function."

Setsuko frowned. "I didn't ask for a lecture, glasses-freak," she said. For the first time since Kyoya met her, she seemed genuinely irritated. He did not know her to have a short temper or low tolerance so for her to be peeved by simply a dress could only draw one conclusion.

_Women are impossible..._

It was official. Setsuko had been registered in Ouran High and was scheduled to make her 'glamorous' debut on the first day of the new year. She would be a freshman, two years behind Kyoya and, thankfully, separated by one year from the Hitachiin twins (those two boys spelled trouble in it's every demonic form).

She'd been eager to attend since the day she got enrolled and had been given the opportunity to wander the premises. At first, she took this as a golden chance to slip away from the supervision of Kyoya and his father, to no avail. While Chairman Suoh and Yoshio were talking, she ducked out of the office and made a break down the hallway with her frilly skirts bunched up in her arms.

Of course, Kyoya knew the school corridors like the back of his hand. He was already heading her off at the top of the staircase. After he caught her, holding her elbow with unexpected force, he gave her a thorough (albeit boring) tour of the school. However, he _did _skip the 3rd Music Room.

Some things were better left as a surprise.

On the car ride home from the school, she was sleepy and dopey and demanding to have strawberry ice-cream (a request which Yoshio surprisingly complied to) and all the while Kyoya couldn't help but think, _I have never met a high school freshman who is as much of a handful as she is. What teenager gets sleepy at noon?_

As of now, they were lounging in Kyoya's bedroom, which they did quite often, as Setsuko often complained that her room was 'too quiet'. Then, of course, she would complain that Kyoya was 'too boring'.

She scowled into the mirror and continued to pick at the outfit, tweaking the dress in every possible way. Several times she turned around and rubbed her butt, looking in the mirror. "You can't even tell I have one," she griped. "You can't even tell I have curves, for that matter," she ran her hands up and down the sides of her body, every so often cupping her chest.

Kyoya yawned. "How unfortunate."

"Couldn't you be a bit more sympathetic?"

He stilled. "It's really a shame. I'm devastated."

Setsuko rolled her eyes and grumbled about him being a 'boring glasses freak'.

Her phone, which was a thin, metallic pink looking thing, vibrated and an annoying jingle sounded through the room. Setsuko answered, "Hello?"

There was a quiet buzzing that Kyoya could here from the speak. He swore he saw her blanch and gulp. She hung up the phone and kept her hands tightly clamped around it, breathing slightly uneven.

"Who was that?" He asked.

"Hmm..." Setsuko stalled. "Oh, it was just some guy that I hooked up with and never called back... It surprised me that he got this number. Guess some guys can't have one night stands, huh?"

He eyed her skeptically over the top of his thin-rimmed glasses. _The reluctance in her tone is most suspicious. Although, that does sound quite likely for an imprudent girl like that to have a boy issue..._

He finally decided not to dig any deeper than necessary and ignored her strange behavior. The phone rang 3 more times. Eventually, she shut it off.

* * *

><p>The limo pulled up in front of the gates. The large, golden gates that contained a pseudo paradise. Setsuko always relished the days at her old school in New York where driving a limo to school was impressive and conceited. Everybody was much more down to earth. Although, she always considered such thinking to be hypocritical on the count of, she herself was undeniably self-indulgent in every way. When it came to money, anyways.<p>

She climbed out of the vehicle and thanked the driver briefly, blowing a kiss. _Kyoya-kun isn't as smart as he lets on. Assigning such a young, cute driver for my limo? How wonderful~!_

Setsuko stood, toes together, before the mansion of a school. It was an astounding school. Outstanding test scores from each grade, extensive extra-curricular activities and not to mention a second home to Japan's social elite.

But all she could think was a sneaky, devilish thought.

_I wonder just how much hell can I raise..._

She strolled into the school and immediately initiated her wide-eyed innocence act. She unfolded her class schedule and saw that she was headed for class 1-C.

Setsuko could hear the chattering from behind the door. She stood outside her classroom in that humongous empty hallway, that was so immaculate that it was intimidating. The floors were unnaturally sparkly and the curtains had not a wrinkle and the sun was coming in at just the right angle to shine in the corner of her right eye. She was exceedingly aware of such things, and that, in itself, made her nervous.

It wasn't like her to be nervous - primarily because she didn't care for many things. But in this case, she was under heavy surveillance. Not just by the Ootori's. By every one of those snooty rich kids who came from an equally wealthy lineage. One false move, and she would be condemned to being shunned by everybody.

_Heh, this isn't like me, _she shut her eyes. _Since when am I an insecure little snot? There's only one thing I need to be worried about : if there's any decent fun around this place. _She smiled to herself and pushed open the door to her classroom.

Inside was crawling with her peers - rowdy boys who talked a great deal about getting girlfriends, and bustling girls chattering about all of the attractive boys who attended the school. All inexperienced chumps, in her opinion.

"G-good morning!"

The room fell silent as they beheld Abukara Setsuko, the party Princess of the year. She gave a timid smile (all a component of her innocent act that had been so well practiced for years).

"Eh? A-Abukara Setsuko!" One of the boys gaped.

"Yes! That is my name. I would really like to be really good friends with all of you this year! Please take good care of me!"

Everybody stood absolutely still - shellshocked.

She gave a friendly grin and moseyed over to a clean desk, front and center, while fluffing her blonde wavy locks and singing a hushed tune to herself.

...

"N-no way... she's an angel...?"

* * *

><p>Classes all morning had been mostly getting to know each other and teachers trying to make a good first impression. All besides one very severe woman with plum lipstick who appeared to be pushing 50, and insisted on distributing Biology textbooks within the first five minutes. Somehow, Setsuko couldn't be bothered to remember her name.<p>

Her classmates had been staring all day. The girls were practically fighting just to be sitting next to her; the boys were drooling and tripping over themselves to squeeze in their self introductions.

_Success. Now, let's see which ones are the wolves... _Setsuko's sharp eyes swept the room over and over, trying to weed out the good boys and girls from the bad ones. The bad ones would be her next targets. The raunchy, down-right dirty, fun loving people. The question was if there were any at all.

_They all look like the same persnickety prudes that I meet at Daddy's parties. How boring._

She sighed longingly and began to pack up her books when the lunch bell rang. She glared at her biology book.

"Setsuko-san."

The smooth voice was blithe as usual. However, it sounded absolutely dreadful to Setsuko. _Shit. I thought I would ditch him today._

"Kyoya-san. What are you doing here?" She always remained faithful to her cheerful act. "Don't you have friends to eat lunch with?"

"Of course, the young lady comes first," the sly fox extended his hand.

The other girls in the classroom fainted and/or had terribly violent nose bleeds.

Setsuko was pleasantly surprised at his attitude. Playing a princely character really did suit his dazzling appearance. His smile was lovely, to say the least, his hair was always so perfectly groomed, and his gray eyes gave him a certain mystique.

Imagining Kyoya as a prince made her face slightly hot. _He is remarkable. No denying that he's gorgeous... _"Oh my. You're as charming as ever, Kyoya-san," she said. She gingerly grabbed the tips of his fingers and allowed him to chivalrously, lead her out of the room, leaving behind a tornado of envy from her classmates.

They walked down the hall together, with hands still touching. "So," she whispered. "you really know how to be sure I'm alienated from the rest of the class. Now, Kyoya-kun. Do you think those girls will talk to me after I walk down the hall while fondling Ouran High's most _handsome_ boy?"

"It seems I've done you a bit of a favor, in that case. You don't like those girls."

"How true," Setsuko said coyly. "But at the same time, you've done yourself a solid, haven't you?"

Kyoya seemed amused. "I can assure you, I don't know what you mean."

She held his fingertips tighter. "But you do. Making such a shameless public display; swatting the boys away like flies, is that right?"

"Hmm. It seems you're becoming quick. Perhaps I've rubbed off on you."

Setsuko chuckled. "Not too much, I hope. I would have to kill myself the day I become as boring as you," she stuck out her tongue and swung his arm playfully. "But don't you think you're acting like a bit of a _jealous boyfriend_? Always keeping the boys off of me. I should have known a slick guy like you would have that kind of hidden motive."

"What a shameless assumption."

"Now, when have I ever had shame?"

They broke apart when they arrived at a grand hall where Setsuko could see all of the students eating extravagant lunches on silver platters. Kyoya invited her in. She politely refused.

"Not today. It's my first day. Would you mind if I take a stroll around the grounds instead?"

He gave her a stern stare. "I promise not to be any trouble, Kyoya-kun. It's the school grounds. It would be utterly foolish of me to attempt anything on the premises. You must know _that _much about me at this point - I'm a little more crafty than that."

The Ootori boy seemed hesitant but finally agreed (under the condition that, if she is caught being mischievous, he will shave her head bald.)

With that word of caution, Setsuko wandered off in another direction, and out of the building.

School was a waste of perfect weather, in her opinion. She floated along the school grounds, soaking up the rays of sunlight and the rich scent of ripe green grass all around her, as far as her eye could see. She came across a polished granite fountain with a sculpture of a woman, although she wasn't quite all woman. She was a mermaid surrounding by other sea creatures and flowers. Setsuko couldn't find the words to describe how enchanting she found the statue, but took note of how each scale on her fin was impeccably carved.

She laid on the ledge of the fountain, being sprayed by a few water droplets, escaping the downward stream from the mermaid's hands. The temperature was just right - just warm enough to comfortably... slip... into sleep.

"A girl?"

When she heard a distant voice, Setsuko cracked open her eyelids (still half-asleep) and everything was a haze. _What is it? _She was met with a pair of chestnut eyes. _A girl? She looks like a princess... she's so cute... and so close... I want to kiss her. _

She wrapped a hand around the back of the princess's head and pulled her in until their lips touched.

"E-EH!"

The princess yelled.

Setsuko woke up with a start, shooting upward. She saw the princess that she had kissed in her dreams plopped down in the grass with hands clasped over her mouth and eyes as big as ever. She seemed to be clad in the boy's uniform. "Oh? Princess?"

"P-princess? I think you may be confusing me with somebody else. This is a misunderstanding."

"Hmm? How upsetting. I've always wanted to meet a princess," Setsuko eyed this girl up and down. _She _is _really pretty. Too bad she's flat as a pancake. _She bit her lip, beginning to make plans for their first date in her head.

"Sorry to disappoint," a dazed and confounded brunette stood wearily and turned on her heel to walk away.

Setsuko rubbed her eyes. "Did you like it?"

"Did I like what?"

"Our kiss," Setsuko winked. "Was it good for you too?"

The princess seemed to be a bit puzzled while staring at the blonde who had just kissed her. "You keep calling me a princess. You know I'm a girl?"

Setsuko straightened her ruffly dress. "Of course. No boy has lips as soft as those," she replied gently. "Maybe Kyoya-kun, but I haven't gotten _that _far yet."

"Kyoya-kun? You know Kyoya-senpai?"

* * *

><p>He adjusted the waistband on his costume. The theme for today was Ancient Greece. Kyoya was fully suited in a white tunic with a gold crest that exposed most of his chest and a golden head wreath. Unfortunately, host club was to be held inside the 3rd Music Room. It was disappointing to Kyoya because that day was a notably wonderful day. Confined in his classroom, he daydreamt about being under the cherry blossom trees all day. He dismissed those mollifying thoughts, reminding himself that the season had just begun; there would be more than one chance to indulge in his that pleasure.<p>

Host Club was just about to start. He clutched his clipboard and pen and idly began to totalize the costs for today's theme and figure it into the budget. It was an extreme penny-saver to have Hitachiin-san (the twins' mother) create the costumes. Otherwise, they would be in the red ever single month.

Tamaki was gushing. As usual. About Haruhi. As usual.

He was fawning over her dressed as a Greek Goddess in light, creamy robes. Hikaru, too, was blushing.

Things had gotten much less tense since Tamaki acknowledged his romantic feelings for Haruhi. However, nobody spoke so openly about it; Hikaru was just beginning to adjust. But Kaoru would always be by his side to help him. That was comforting enough.

"Haruhiii~! Why are you so cold to me?"

"Senpai is irritating me. Besides, you're talking way too loud."

"I can't help it! My Haruhi is so beautiful today! You really suit the part of 'goddess'," Tamaki said softly, placing his fingers under her chin, leaving Haruhi a bit flustered.

She shoved him back with her palms against his chest. "Ah, don't say something like that Senpai. You should save it for the girls." Haruhi was still in heavy-duty denial of her feelings for the Idiot Prince (then again, who would want to admit being in love with a guy like that?) Fujioka Haruhi had a great amount of pride that could not easily be pushed aside; especially to confess to a host under regular circumstances.

Another thing that Kyoya had noted was that Tamaki never addressed Haruhi as his 'little girl' anymore. Instead, he would say, 'my Haruhi'. He often wondered whether or not Haruhi herself had noticed just how much feeling Tamaki put on the line by saying that. Unashamed, devoted and _romantic _feelings.

_The plight of the smitten teenager is grim indeed, _he found himself smiling at the sight of the blonde frenchie blindly trailing his love at the ankles. _So, the french _are _a people of romance._

"Everybody! Positions!" Tamaki called out. He was dress as, of course, a Greek emperor. The seven hosts collected around the couch in their most inviting poses.

Only about 30 seconds later, the horde of girls flocked in the room.

They all spoke at the same time. "Welcome, ladies."

"Kyaa! It's wonderful!" The girls could hardly contain their feelings running wild!

"The fairness of you young ladies on this fine day is overwhelming, even for an emperor, who knows the beauty of all Greece - you're the cream of the crop," Tamaki kissed a hand of a sophomore girl and left all the 'Prince' fans gasping for air.

"Is such a line even acceptable...?" Haruhi droned.

Hikaru and Kaoru snuck up behind her. "If it's his highness then anything is possible," they said in unison.

"Mmhmm! Tama-chan is amazing!" Hunny, who visited the Host club a few times a week with Mori, nodded fervidly. "That's why Haru-chan lov-"

"Mitsukuni-kun," Mori dropped a hand on his shoulder. "That is taboo."

Haruhi emitted an overpowering aura of danger. "This is ridiculous. We should really get back to work. I have to brew up the commoner's coffee."

"Ha? Scary, Haru-chan! Don't look at me like that!"

Kyoya stood near the refreshments table and watched Haruhi stir up some commoners coffee, all the while, staring up at the clock. She looked uncharacteristically anxious.

"Do you have an appointment, Haruhi?"

She shook her head and lifted the tray of coffee cups. "No, Kyoya-senpai. I'm waiting for a girl."

He raised his eyebrow and scrawled on his clipboard, flipping over to another page. "Is that so? A friend of yours?"

"Hmm... I wonder if that's how to put it," Haruhi mused, delivering steaming cups of coffee to customers who were intrigued and jealous to learn that Haruhi was waiting on a girl. "Maybe you would call her a lover?"

3. 2. 1.

"HARUHI!" Tamaki exploded and sprinted to her side! "Haruhi, Haruhi, Haruhi-"

"What is it already, Senpai?" She was being held and shaken by the shoulders by a very distraught Tamaki. The rest of the Host club gathered around as well.

Hunny bounced, letting his arms flail. "Ne, Haru-chan has a girlfriend? Is she pretty?"

"O-oy, Hunny-senpai, that isn't the point, is it?" A nervous Hikaru stammered.

"She's not a girlfriend," the brunette said simply. "She just kissed me."

"K-KISS!" The French-man dramatically exclaimed. "A kiss is not just anything! It's special! Your kisses should all be with me!"

"Eh? Since when is that a rule?"

"So," Kaoru spoke above the clamor. "Is this an unrequited love?"

Haruhi brushed Tamaki off of her shoulder. "I don't know if it's anything like that. I leaned over her while she was sleeping and she kissed me. And she said she knew _you_, Kyoya-senpai," she explained.

_"Kyoya-kun? You know Kyoya-senpai?"_

_"Unfortunately."_

_Haruhi scratched the back of her neck. "That's odd. I don't remember him mentioning you..."_

_The blonde girl seemed stunned for only a second, then slowly, a crooked expression began to grow on her face. "So you know Kyoya-kun? Don't tell me. You're his girlfriend? Are cross-dressers his fetish?"_

_Haruhi shook her head and settling on the ledge of the fountain next to the girl. "Ano, he's my friend. Aren't _you _his girlfriend? You seem like the type that Kyoya-senpai would go after."_

_"Nope. Impossible! He's quite possibly asexual."_

_"I see."_

_Immediately, the blonde began to jabber out questions that seemed to fly through one of Haruhi's ears and out the other. "Is he a nerd? Is he popular? Does he have a girlfriend? What does he act like? What does he do after-school? Anything juicy? Anything embarrassing?" Her voice was soft but she did spoke in such a rapid fire manner. Moreover, her questions bore ill-intentions; it was as though her words didn't match up with her teeny body._

_Furthermore, Haruhi felt as though she recognized this young lady, but any names escaped her._

_"Ano...? W-wait, did you say you don't know what Kyoya does after school?"_

_"He doesn't talk about himself. Why, Princess?"_

_To be called 'princess' wasn't such an unfamiliar thing to Haruhi. After all, she _did _know the Host club. They must have _all _called her princess at some point. "Come to the 3rd Music Room after school. Kyoya-senpai will show you something unexpected!"_

Kyoya gritted his teeth. A small part of him _knew_ from the beginning that everything would swing back around to the she-devil.

"Is that so..." Kyoya said.

"Should I not have done so?"

He exhaled. "Thank you. You saved me the trouble of inviting her myself. It seems I'd forgotten."

_I leave her alone for an hour and she causes an uproar. No good. _He grimaced. It had been only 10 minutes since Host club started. She would be arriving... _Hopefully, she decides to play the good girl for the hosts._

Regular Host club activities continued for a few more minutes (with Kyoya on private guard) when the doors cracked open.

"Hmm...?" A mellow voice sounded from the door. "It smells good in here..."

"Of course! A newcomer, are you? Welcome," Tamaki blew a kiss and gave her a smoldering look.

Haruhi perked up. "It's you!"

Tamaki froze.

"Princess!" Setsuko waved. The boys were taken aback. They were shocked at how beautiful this girl was - lustrous yellow hair, electric blue eyes and a voluptuous figure, despite her short stature. The complete opposite of of the portrait they painted in their minds.

The customer's began scrambling about, whispering about this girl. Some recognized her as the infamous Abukara. Others were upset that such a good looking girl kissed Haruhi (and called 'him' princess, for that matter!) and knew Kyoya.

"So, this is the girl you were talking about...!" Hikaru and Kaoru snickered.

"Eh! You've been talking about me," Setsuko cooed gleefully. "I'm so happy~!"

Kyoya folded his arms over his clipboard. "Setsuko-san. I'm glad you showed up. I can chop your hair off without going through the ordeal of finding you."

"Chop my hair off? I haven't caused any trouble, Kyoya-kun"

He smiled. "Oh, but you have."

Hunny tilted his head to the side and asked the question that everybody had been dying to hear the answer to. "You're so familiar with Kyo-chan. Ne, Setsu-chan, how do you know him...?"

Setsuko put on a most solemn face and walked over to Kyoya. She pressed their bodies together so tightly that he could feel her taut stomach and cushiony chest. She placed a hand behind his head, lifted up one leg to rest on his hip and reached around to grab his butt. "It's true... we're lovers."

The room fell silent...

She burst out laughing and ripped away from the miffed (and slightly aroused) Ootori. "Fooled you! I bet you thought I would say something like that!"

"Who is this girl...? How indecent!" Tamaki was flustered. "Setsuko-san! What is your true relationship with our Kyoya!"

"Family friends," she responded sweetly.

The twins simpered. Hikaru goaded, "That must be it."

"I think you're right, Hikaru," Kaoru chorused.

"There's no way he could-"

"Land a girl-"

"Like that. It's so pitiful!" The two rogue twins sniggered. Setsuko laughed as well. Kyoya had a lousy feeling that this was about to begin the most atrocious of friendships.

He heard Haruhi beside him drop her fist into her open palm as if just making a discovery. "I see, family friends. That makes sense. The more I thought about it, the less probable it seemed that Kyoya-senpai would have a girlfriend that is so outgoing. Right?" She stared up at him.

_Observant, as expected of the honor roll student. _"Precisely."

The blonde girl twirled her hair around her finger. "Actually, I'm sorry for making such a huge scene. I'm only here to see what Kyoya-kun does after school. And also, of course, for Princess-kun."

"Ne," Kaoru put his hands on his hips. "This is really confusing. Kyoya-senpai, what is going on?"

"Everyone, I apologize for not giving introductions sooner. This is a friend of the family, Abukara Setsuko," most people remembered the name and matched it to the face of the fashion icon. "She has been staying with the Ootori's due to family circumstances. And this, Setsuko-san, is the Host Club."

She seemed extremely excited. "And what is that exactly?"

At this point, the Prince of the Club threw himself into her view. "Let me explain!

He cleared his throat and made a grand hand gesture. "Those with the wherewithal- first, in social standing, second, in money- spend their time here at the private Ouran Academy. As such, Ouran Host club is where handsome boys with too much time on their hands entertain and charm girls, who also have too much time on their hands. It's the school's own personal, elegant playground for the super rich!"

Setsuko seemed to be breathtaken and gazing deeply into Tamaki's violet eyes. "Very... handsome," she murmured dreamily.

He was delighted. He motioned to the rest of the boys. "You can choose from any type! We have the Hitachiin twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, the devil type with a forbidden romance! Morinozuka Takashi, the silent, wild type! Haninozuka 'Hunny' Mitsukuni as the loli-shota type! Fujioka Haruhi as the natural type! Or," Tamaki sauntered over to her and planted a kiss on her hand. "you can have me - Suoh Tamaki - the prince type."

She swooned just a tiny bit then seized a hold of herself. "Wait. Type?"

"Indeed, Princess."

"So, basically..."

"Yes?"

"You're like prostitutes!"

His face screwed up. "Wh-wh-wh-"

"Like high end prostitutes without the sex. That sounds wonderful~!"

Tamaki could only squeak, completely destroyed. The twins had run to get a cup of water to splash on him. "Hang in there, your highness!"

Kyoya's molars were beginning to hurt from grinding them so hard. He busied himself with more expenses on his clipboard when he felt Setsuko tug on his tunic. "Ne, Kyoya-kun?"

"Yes?"

"What is your 'type'? Tamaki-kun never mentioned you."

He sighed. "The cool type," he uttered ruefully.

Setsuko giggled. "Cool? How lame. I thought you would have been the sexy type," she stroked his bare arm, admiring his muscles.

"Any reason for the flattery? You need a favor, I presume?"

"Nope," she piped. She then lowered her voice to a whisper. "I just like it here... and I especially like Haruhi-kun. I was wondering if you had anything on that clipboard concerning-"

He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "She's straight."

Setsuko pouted. "How boring!"

_How bothersome..._


	5. The Risk

A/N: Chapter 5 already! I feel so good to have made it at least this far! :D Thanks so much to the people who have already reviewed! You have no idea how encouraging it is to receive reviews! Thanks a million! And for the people who are just along for the ride, thanks for reading! Wow, so school is back on for me. Really sucks. Trying to get back in the swing of things, trying to complete my homework and everything... but the internet is just so distracting!

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: The Risk<p>

"Thank you for having me!"

"You're welcome!" The twins said in perfect synchronization. "Please come again!"

Setsuko and Kyoya were leaving the Club. It had been an eventful afternoon, what with Setsuko coming in and stirring the pot. None of the girls in the club were very impressed with her. In fact, it was only 20 minutes after her arrival before they began to whisper about her. Kyoya heard nasty words; hussy, harlot, and harshest of all, slut.

He was almost certain she'd heard a majority of the gossip. But all Kyoya saw was a self-assured look on her face. The words bounced right off of her. That was, he admitted, slighty admirable.

The reaction from the club was quite the contrary.

It was clear to see that she'd made a wonderful impression on both the twins and on Hunny-senpai, who hugged her around the middle and said he would come back and visit her soon. Mori was, of course, indifferent. The prince himself had tried to charm her several times - the only result being that she would giggle until red in the face. She'd stayed almost attached to Haruhi the entire remainder of her time at the Host Club but every so often, as Kyoya observed, she would sneak a glance at Tamaki and her gaze would linger there for much too long.

_For Setsuko to fancy Tamaki would be dangerous to his health. She'll give him a heart attack in a week, tops. _Kyoya wearily slung his book bag over his shoulder and escorted Setsuko out.

Outside, their car was waiting. They piled in.

"Kyoya-kun. I really like your friends," she sighed contentedly.

"I believe the feeling is mutual. They seemed to be quite happy to meet you. I suppose you'll be returning?"

She was untangling her hair. "Of course. That was, by far, the most exciting part of Ouran. Other than Haruhi herself."

"Hmm, is that so," Kyoya replied dully. He couldn't prevent his mind from drifting and imagining those two girls together, as a couple. Holding hands, cuddling - kissing. That thought made him awfully uncomfortable.

"There's one really strange thing," Setsuko said. "Of all activities you could take part in, I never expected the Host Club."

"Is it really so unlikely?"

She nodded and stuck her nose in the air. "Indeed. The idea of it alone could be considered outrageous among parents and staff members. Such an interesting club - who could have guessed that a boring glasses freak would organize it?"

Kyoya's eyes narrowed only slightly. "Going a bit on the offensive side?"

She smirked. "It's true, isn't it? You must admit it yourself - you're the voice of reason amongst a club full of fools. You're the boring one. The mommy."

"That is..." he paused thoughtfully. "True."

Setsuko drew a nail file from the side pocket of her knapsack and began to leisurely polish the tips of her nails. "When I found out about the type of club you were involved in, I was excited to learn about your club 'personality', or your 'type'. I was expecting something different. Like, 'the delinquent' or 'the tortured prince'."

He folded his arms in his lap and decided to humor her. "So, what exactly are you trying to insinuate? Do you not agree with my classification?"

"No, I agree," she said sounding quite chipper. "It actually captures your personality to tee. My point was, Kyoya-kun, that while the rest of the Host club has a certain amount of charm, you seem to be the dull one. It seems to me that the rest have enough charm to sway their romantic life in the right direction. You, however, don't possess such powers."

Kyoya raised his eyebrows nearly half-way up his forehead. He knew that engaging in an argument with Setsuko was the equivalent of a dog chasing it's tail around in a circle but she'd sounded so haughty and so convinced. It was like dangling the bait right before his nose. He resisted, but in the end his argumentative side conquered and, against his better judgement, he angled his body toward her.

"You don't believe that I possess the charm necessary to please a girl?"

Setsuko listlessly slid her nail file back into the side pocket of her backpack, then tented her fingers on her lap. "You can charm a girl. A frivolous, fickle little pixie that has never touched a man in her lifetime. But charming a woman is a completely different matter. What do you expect to do when your father assigns you a fiance and you are to romance her?"

He ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth. "I have my own secrets. Why disclose them in the company of the customers of the Host club?"

"So," her eyes flickered with an excitement that made Kyoya's stomach turn. "You are arrogant. You believe you can make a woman fall for you? With your cheap little tricks? With just a smile and a soft personality? How sweet. And naive."

"What makes you believe that I don't have the ability to romance a woman? As far as I'm concerned, you've seen _nothing _yet."

She stretched her palms out on the leather seats, facing him completely. "From what I've seen, you aren't capable of enchanting anybody for more than a week."

Her taunting was maddening. Normally, he would have been unphased by such lukewarm insults but there was a blazing hotness in the depths of his stomach that was shoving him on. _She's unravelling me..._

He took a reposing breath. "Having this argument is pointless, is it not? With no indication of who wins, it could continue for a long waste of time."

Setsuko groomed her hair and shrugged. "Unless..."

"Dare I ask?"

"Unless you test it out."

"Romance a woman?"

She batted her eyelashes. "Of course. It could be a game..."

Kyoya tented his fingers and eyed her cautiously. The competitive blood in him was racing. "And who would be the test subject...?"

"Well, myself of course."

"You're not a woman," he said simply. "I believe there's a height requirement."

Setsuko pursed her lips and her nostrils flared indignantly. "Don't. _Test_. Me."

He was slightly tickled to see her annoyed, considering the ability to annoy Abukara Setsuko had to be categorized as some sort of superpower, and while he desperately wanted to further aggravate her, he couldn't ignore the absurdity of such a game. But at the same time, it was an interesting and untapped idea... _There's no harm in exploring the rules, is there? _

"Let's say, hypothetically, we were to play this game. Should you lose, defined by falling in love with me I would assume, how would I know? Your victory could be assured as easy as withholding the right information. Lying and cheating in this type of game is much too easy, isn't it? The risk is too high."

Setsuko contemplated such for a matter of five seconds before sticking out her pinky for a sacred pinky promise. "Naturally, as the respectable lady and gentleman we were brought up to be, we shall abide by the honor system. If I fall for you, I'll confess. However, we won't need to worry about that."

Kyoya rolled his eyes and tucked her pinky back into her fist. He wasn't completely convinced. "It seems that this game is rather one-sided. Only _I _can win considering there is nothing to do on your part."

"True," she drawled. "Then it would be beneficial to me to add another rule then? This game will be two-sided. When you fall for me, I expect that you confess like the honorable man I suspect you are."

His mind was racing. There was no merit to this game whatsoever as there was no award. There could be no result other than complication. On the one hand, should Setsuko be the loser, he would have an emotional, infatuated female living in his house, down the hall no less. That would be a mess of mascara stains and empty chocolate wrappers, and most of all, a spurned diva complaining to Yoshio about how badly he'd treated her.

Somehow, it was difficult to imagine Setsuko throwing such an outrageous temper tantrum like some other mindless girl, but it was quite possible.

However, if Setsuko was the victor and Kyoya fell for her, how would he live with himself? To succumb to her feminine powers would not only be admitting ultimate defeat to that seductive she-devil, but to himself. Falling in love with a flaky eccentric like Setsuko? A humiliating blow. Not to mention Yoshio would have him hanged!

A little voiced peeped in the back of his head, reminding him that he'd never _been _in love before, and to gamble it was massively risky.

So why was the game so compelling?

Perhaps it was that contemptuous air she emitted, or the way she'd snorted when talking about ever falling for the likes of him. Every bit of competitiveness that had rubbed off on him from Hikaru, Kaoru and Tamaki was just itching to expose itself. _If I refuse to participate, that is defeat on it's own. Setsuko would never let it go... if I do participate, the dangers of falling in love with her are small. Playing her game may not be so risky. It may be a chance to assert my dominance for once._

"I'll play."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"It's what I said, isn't it?"

Setsuko placed her hands on her cheeks and smiled. "Finally. Something worth doing. I never thought I would have this much fun with you."

"We could have much more," he said. "We'll see."

For a moment she paused, stunned. Then, she tittered. "Gaining an early start, are you? You're downright brilliant. You may actually win this game."

Kyoya polished his glasses with a silk hankerchief from his pocket. "Of course."

* * *

><p>She struggled to sleep. School was merely 8 hours away and she was famously recognized by friends and relatives as cranky when she was underslept. Her eyelids were drooping and her body felt heavy; sleep <em>still <em>felt unreachable. She groaned and turned on her back, rubbing her hand over her bubbling stomach that was bloated, due to the hearty man-sized portions served in the Ootori Household.

The last phone call of a storm of phone calls had been a half an hour ago. The phone had rang 4 consecutive times. She only answered 3 times. She couldn't bear to answer it a fourth time. _It seems it's over. It's probably safe to sleep now..._

Just as she settled in just the right position into the mattress, she flinched when she heard her phone buzz. Again.

Against all better judgement, she answered the phone and was met with a chain of sobbing.

"Are you crying again," Setsuko rubbed her eyes, holding the phone away from her face.

"P-please... you don't e-even understan'!" The person on the other line hiccuped and wept unintelligibly.

Setsuko's heart strings tightened. She clenched her jaw and blinked back her own salty tears. "You can't keep doing this. It isn't healthy. Please just hang up and get out of your apartment."

The person on the other end wheezed out a throaty laugh. "Like that's ever gonn' happen. I'm a nothin'. Un'erstand?"

"I'm hanging up the phone now."

They hiccuped. "Talk to me."

"I have to sleep now," the blonde girl swallowed a hard lump in her throat. "I'm hanging up."

"Tch. I jus' love you so mush baby girl." Their voice quaked. "Do you still love me?"

Setsuko bit back a sob. "God, of course I still love you. Don't you dare."

"I know. I'm jus' such a mess without you. I wan' you back baby. I just wan' you back..."

The person broke down into tears once again. Setsuko didn't think she could bear to listen to another word. With trembling fingers, she ended the phone call. Tears sprung to her eyes as she wiggled back under the duvet, clawing at her hair and wishing for no more than just to rip it out.

"Fuck," she barked into her mattress. "Fuck! Fuck it all!" She pounded her fists into a cushion, again and again and again, wanting to see some kind of reaction. For the pillow to burst and for feathers to fly; for her knuckles to crack and bleed. Anything.

Within a matter of seconds, she heard the door hinges creak. She froze. Kyoya. "Setsuko-san, what is the ruckus?"

She heard his footsteps, approaching the bed. "Stop. Don't come any closer."

"What is it?"

Setsuko gulped and swabbed her eyes against the linen. "Don't sound so serious. It's nothing. I was just on the phone with my boyfriend."

Kyoya scoffed in disbelief. "Quite an aggressive reaction for a conversation with a boyfriend. Moreover, since when have you _had _a boyfriend?"

"He's from New York," she said. "We had a small argument. Everything's alright."

There was a hulking silence before Kyoya 'tsked'. "Though you're happily attached to a boyfriend from New York, you've engaged in a competition with me, betting on love. How _peculiar_." He hummed mockingly before exiting the room.

Setsuko exhaled and began to laugh. _He's just too smart. I can't convince him of anything... _she ran her fingers through her glossy blonde hair and began to massage her nagging skull. There was only so many times somebody could listen to the drunken ravings of a loved one before they began to feel sick in every conceivable way. Setsuko had always had good patience. She was never worn this thin before.

To distract herself from the pain and the exhaustion, she let her mind drift off. She briefly remembered the her and Kyoya's little competition. She simpered when imagining herself in the arms of Kyoya, _deeply _in love with him - it was preposterous. _The fact that this boy is so arrogant that he thinks he can make me fall for him is laughable. It's as if he's never met me. _Setsuko smirked and giggled wickedly.

Then, after a long while of mentally teasing the boring boy, her mind stumbled upon a possibility.

What if she had underestimated Kyoya?

What would happen to her if she truly, sincerely fell for Ootori Kyoya?

_How could I live with myself if I fell for Kyoya? _Setsuko shuddered. It was a horrifying concept; to have the 'flutteries' for a frightening boy like that. A ruthless boy. A boy with connections who could cut a person down as easily as snapping his spindly fingers. It was horrifying simply _because _he was Kyoya. A boy who could crush her should she expose her deepest stirrings.

But still. The thought was all kinds of intriquing; enchanting even. To wonder and wonder what it would be like to be in love, period. A love with hope, that is. Setsuko had been in love once. Once upon a delusion.

She wondered what it would be like to have love at the tip of her fingers. To be kissed by somebody you loved. She desperately wished for somebody other than Kyoya, who was more than likely to be a merciless user. But should she fall in love with him... perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad.

Perhaps it would be everything she'd dreamt of.


	6. Her Type

A/N: So, lately I've been listening to way too much ABBA and The Carpenters. How old do I think I am?  
>Chapter 6 is now up for those that are following! Thanks for making it this far! It is really a pleasure to receive your support! Thanks so much! Please continue to read and tell your friends, too ;) School is a pain, by the way. 2 hours of homework? Thanks, man...<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Her Type<p>

Spring was in full bloom.

Kyoya was relishing the warm prickle of the sun against his exposed skin. With a ghost of a smile on his thin, pallid lips, he gazed across the outstretch of lush, verdant grass that was spattered with pale pink spots; the free-falling petals from the cherry blossom trees being carried by the docile breeze. Moisture still adhered to the blades of grass, only slightly dampening the tips of his shoes.

The Host Club was taking full advantage of the Spring and was hosting outdoors. They set up round tables with spotless golden patterned table cloths spread over top, spilling over the sides and ruffling like smooth ocean waves. Kyoya had made sure to order from the Host Club's sponsoring florist; the centerpiece on each table was a western flower arrangement. He was very specific in using the buttery white napkins as opposed to the pearly white napkins, so as not to overwhelm the eyes with _too_ much white. The Hosts were dressed in black waiter's uniforms with golden satin hankercheifs crowning at the breast pocket - the precise shade to match the table cloths.

He was as consistently meticulous as he was economical - the Club had not gone over budget, once again. They had reason to trust the judgement of their manager, the Shadow King Kyoya, who saved them from bankruptcy nearly everyday.

Having said that, it would only be fair for the relationship to be give-and-take. Kyoya _intended _to reap his own benefits now and then.

And it just happened that on that particular radiant afternoon, he would need his dirty work done for him.

_Now is the perfect opportunity to plant the seed._

With such gullible and easily manipulated victims, the foundation needn't be lay down too deep. It would take less than flick of a wrist to enthrall his simple-minded prey. It would be a domino effect, beginning with the weakest pillar of all; Tamaki. From there, Hikaru, Kaoru and Hunny (pulling Mori down with him,) would all be strung along.

Kyoya tapped his ball-point pen against his clipboard and stood directly behind Tamaki who was chatting up a customer. She was nibbling on a tea biscuit and being happily serenaded by the showers of compliments and love professions.

"I've noticed something really quite strange," Kyoya said wistfully. "Setsuko-san is turning into quite the host-hopper, isn't she?"

And so, the cogs in Tamaki's mind began turning and powering that little hamster-running-on-a-wheel engine that was his brain. Kyoya walked off, feeling sufficiently accomplished - it was only seconds later that the King shot up from his seat and made his declaration :

"SHE'S A HOPPER!"

Setsuko had been attending Ouran for a little over a week.

Homelife had remained generally the same. Every so often, she would try to escape the house but would be caught by Kyoya, who seldom let his guard down. Other than this, her and Kyoya were attached to the hip.

She was a regular customer of the Host Club. She would arrive early, before any other guests. Yet sarcastic and sadistic as always, she would act the polite little lady and carry with her a positive ambience that seemed to fuel the club, as if she were a blast of energy.

Despite being a regular guest of the Club, she broke numerous rules unapologetically on a daily basis. She would wander into the changing sections and try on the costumes for the hell of it, she paid for nothing at all (insisting that all services she used be paid for by Kyoya who was her 'protector') and she would _touch _the Hosts. Several times, she made spontaneous attempts to kiss Haruhi - all thwarted by Tamaki.

Among the other guests of the Host Club, she was a notorious Host Hopper. The second visit, she requested Hunny. The very next day, she preferred the twins. Then Tamaki, Mori and Haruhi for three days. Most people knew, of course, that she had a large and obvious crush on Haruhi. Some people disagreed - they believed she had a crush on Kyoya. Which was also quite plausible.

A number of times she came into the Host Club, she'd made insistent requests for Kyoya and refused to yeild, despite being told that Kyoya couldn't be requested. "I have managing to do," he would say. And she would complain for a small while then lose interest and drift off to another Host.

Regardless, Setsuko was indeed a multiple-time offender of 'Host Hopping' which, in Tamaki's eyes, was a punishable offense! However, such was a blessing in disguise for Kyoya. It was all brilliantly falling into place. After all -

Ootoris were _sore _losers.

Tamaki crept over to his accomplices and partners in crime, Hikaru and Kaoru. Looking like a secret agent, he suspiciously peered back and forth before whispering to the twins.

"Ne, ne, Hikaru, Kaoru," he beckoned. "You may not have noticed this but... Setsuko-chan is a hopper!"

They blinked.

"Sir, why are you whispering?" Hikaru droned.

Kaoru shrugged. "It isn't such a secret, sir. It's a bit sad that you didn't even notice until now. How horrible."

Tamaki pouted. "Doesn't it bug you? That a young girl is battling with herself and her emotions? That she can't decide on who she loves the most! A maiden's heart is in turmoil! Doesn't it make your heart melt?"

"Nope," they said. "Not at all."

The spry blonde boy was not about to surrender. He gave a devious smile. "What I'm suggesting is that we help along the process. Help her discover which type she prefers."

This piqued the twin's interests. Their lips curled into baleful grins and their amber vulpine eyes leered at Setsuko who was gracefully plucking apart pieces of her muffin and popping them into her mouth, unbeknownst that she was being observed - _very _carefully.

Hikaru spoke first. "So, if I'm hearing correctly-"

"What you're suggesting, sir-" then Kaoru.

"Is that we do a young maiden a favor-"

"By using the only method we know?"

Tamaki flashed a toothy smile. "Precisely! To make it worth your while, it shall be a game!" He thrust his finger in the air and made his royal proclamation - and, of course, the good word of the King was law in the Host Club.

Kyoya pushed his glasses up his nose. _That took a lot less time then I thought it would. This should be considered a new record. _"Now, now, what is all this commotion about?" He assumed the role of the oblivious mediator, a well-rehearsed portrayal. "What game are you raving about now, Tamaki?"

The Frenchman side-glanced at Setsuko to make sure the coast was clear then summoned Haruhi, Hunny and Mori with an obnoxious arm gesture. Once all the hosts were gathered into a huddle as if they were in a football game, he began muttering, "We have a crisis on our hands! A friend of the Host Club is a confused soul! Setsuko-san is Host hopping! It's up to us, our _duty _as hosts to find her type!"

"Is this what the super secretive meeting is about," Haruhi yawned and rubbed her eye. "Isn't this just a waste of time, Tamaki-senpai?"

"Haruhi! This is important!" The scorned King asserted with a foot stomped on the floor and his balled up fist punching up in the air. "We must find Setsuko-san's type!"

The brown-eyed girl's eyes narrowed. "Isn't this a game just to satisfy your own curiosity?"

He was deeply offended and made no attempts to hide it. "This is for Setsuko-san! Don't you understand?"

"What's for me?"

It gave the Hosts quite a start, with the exception of the ever-observant Kyoya, who was taking detailed jot-notes on the progress of _this _silly game to aid him in triumphing in his own silly game. Setsuko stood at the edge of their circle, munching on yet another muffin; carrot cake muffin, most likely (Kyoya had become accustomed to identifying the various aromas of the confections that were served at Club).

When nobody said anything, Setsuko repeated, "What do you have for me? Tamaki-senpai?"

"Aha!" He forced a laugh. "N-nothing you need to be concerned about!"

Setsuko frowned. "That's not fair that you have something from me that you're hiding..."

"It's a bit ridiculous," Kyoya finally spoke up. "The kitchen is still preparing pastries. At this point, there will be a surplus that even Hunny-senpai cannot devour."

Her eyes brightened. "Uh huh?"

"There should be a plate of lemon squares that should be for you."

The childish way she unconsciously licked her lips when she thought about pastries was one of the few endearing things that Kyoya found about Setsuko. "Really?"

"Really."

Setsuko's stomach grumbled audibly and she rubbed it. "But I already ate the sweets out here. If I eat the lemon squares, I'll just get fat."

"That's nonsense." Kyoya strode over to her and patted the top of her head. "Utter nonsense."

She replied his encouraging smile with an exuberant grin from ear-to-ear before bolting for the kitchen like there was no tomorrow. _Fascinating, _he fondled the tip of his chin. _Reverting back to childhood. Common for Setsuko, yet still remarkable._

She was the bane of his existence, his hangman's noose but still, speaking to her in that manner was effortless and slightly gratifying.

Not that it was easy to admit to himself that it was adorable. _She _was adorable. In fact, he denied it with every fibre of his being.

If he had to, he would say adorable in a furry, bunny-rabbit way. To think that she was adorable in the _other way _- the 'girl' way was something that had briefly - very briefly - flashed in his mind. But that was a thought he dared not explore into further details. Each time his thoughts veered into that direction, that maybe she was attractive or witty or that she smelled of cinnamon and other delectable scents, he would have unpleasant tossings in his stomach and feel sick of himself for not being able to constrain those embarrassing musings.

When he tuned back into their Hosts' conversation, they were already enthusiatically discussing rules to their newest game. He noticed immediately that Haruhi was not present. She had gone back to entertaining guests.

Tamaki cleared his throat. "The game is called 'Who can find Setsuko-san's type'!"

"Waa! This sounds really fun, Tama-chan!" Hunny locked his arms tighter around Usa-chan, who stayed in the Third Music Room during the day, since Mori wouldn't let him carry a stuffed animal around in a university.

"Yeah, your highness," Hikaru said. "We didn't know you could come up with a game like this. What are the rules?"

"The rules are quite simple," he replied. "Find the type that Setsuko-san prefers without asking or making her aware of the game! Everybody understand?"

Kyoya felt there wasn't enough motivation on to keep such a mundane game going. It was yet again time for action. "A game wouldn't be a game without a prize to be won. There should be stakes," he watched as they all waited with baited breath. "The stakes are but the usual; the winner will be arranged a _whole_ day with Haruhi."

"EH?" Tamaki interjected. "Y-you can't bet my Haruhi! If those two heathens win-"

"Heathens, your highness?" Kaoru stood back to back with his brother, both with an increasingly sneaky atmosphere about them. "Well, isn't that just plain rude!"

Hikaru flipped his hair. "Perhaps you shouldn't have proposed the game so confidently if you were too _yellow-bellied_ to follow through with it."

"Ha! As if I would be afraid to compete against the likes of you two nitwits! I'll win this game!"

"I want a whole day with Haru-chan! We can finally go to the zoo!" Hunny exclaimed, then tugged on Mori's dress shirt. "Ne, Takashi. Let's win this!"

"Ah," Mori deadpanned.

Kyoya smiled benevolently. "So it's settled then."

* * *

><p>It was a logical decision, he'd thought. Logic was not his forte, but after doing the deductions in his head over and over on the previous night, he came to his conclusion.<p>

The time that Setsuko spent with Haruhi far exceeded the time she spent paying attention to any of the other hosts. Haruhi was considered the 'Natural' type, but Tamaki believed her preoccupation with her was further rooted than that.

And that was how he deduced that his suspicions were correct and that he was going to win the game.

Setsuko timidly knocked on the classroom door, thinking it strange to receive a note from Tamaki to meet him during a lunch period. She found it to be unlocked, so she unceremoniously allowed herself in only to find nothing but a vacant room shrouded in shadow, with the exception of a few strips of light rushing in from the spaces between the curtains.

"Tamaki-senpai?"

"So, you showed up..."

"Tamaki-senpai? Is that you?"

"But of course!" He stepped out from his dark corner into the line of light, allowing himself to be doused in it. "Remember this day, Abukara Setsuko!"

Setsuko's jaw dropped. Her tummy began to shake with contained giggles, her body convulsing until the urge passed over her. "T-T-Tamaki-senpai. Are you wearing...?"

"Absorb it. Does it not make you want me? Me and my shimmering lips?"

"Please s-s-s-stop!"

Tamaki flickered on the lights to fully reveal himself in all his feminine glory. He was costumed in the full Ouran women's uniform. His hair was curled and treated with sparkles; it had lacy ribbons in it too. His face was caked with makeup, dark purple eyeshadow and glimmering pink lips. One of his fake eyelashes was askew.

He pounded his fist against his chest. "Don't feel ashamed for having such a fetish! It's perfectly normal. Nobody could resist this!" Tamaki floated to stand in front of her and cupped her cheeks in his hands (which were adorned with fake fingernails).

Her face was nearly blue from holding her breath for so long. It was painful to restrict her giggles, that all seem to collect in her chest.

Finally, when Tamaki's lips puckered to look like some sort of guppy fish, she could not longer hold it."

"STOP!" She screamed with laughter, shoving him away by the chest, which she noticed had been stuffed with balled up socks to imitate breasts. "What are you doing? Wh-why are you dressed like a woman?"

"Isn't this what you want?" He struck a pose.

Setsuko howled and threw her hands over her eyes. "No, no, no, I can't watch this anymore!"

Tamaki stiffened and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "This isn't what you like?"

"Ah, no way, I love it, it's just..." she trailed off while swiping a mirthful tear from her eye. "It's just not my thing."

As it turned out, crossdressing was just not her type. Which was alright. The bra was starting to chafe, anyway...

* * *

><p>They had been taking the battle strategy of studying the target before charging. It was their war tactic with almost a 100 percent success rate - however, it almost never worked on Haruhi. They had been scrutinizing Setsuko, the sturdy opponent.<p>

She was basically glued to their Kyoya-senpai. However, they overheard her several times, mercilessly teasing him - not that he seemed to mind. But she had pestered him about being boring. 'You're a stage five snorefest - between an old man playing checkers and a sloth dragging itself along a branch' was on specific insult she used.

Therefore, they figured they had to be the polar opposite of Kyoya, the cool gentleman.

Setsuko was walking to the mall after school and Club, unaccompanied for the first time in weeks. Usually, inside the house, at school, even on a walk at the park, her and Kyoya followed eachother around like puppies - it was rare to find one of them unattended. This afternoon, she wanted to buy a new dress, stating that her others had become outworn and that her father hadn't been sending her any new designer works. Kyoya had work to do. Frankly, he didn't feel at all like chaperoning. Without his father's knowledge, he'd sent her out by herself.

The two of them considered it to be safe enough - after all, Kyoya wasn't a fool. A couple weeks ago (after she continuously tried escaping the house) he had a GPS chip inserted in her cellphone.

But now, outside of the house by herself, Setsuko acted as an incarcerated prisoner who had the anklecuffs unlocked. She wanted to walk as far away as possible.

She was walking to the shopping mall when she brushed shoulders with a boy clad in a leather jacket.

"Sorry," she muttered, but had to do a double take when she recognized the shape of the man. "Hikaru-senpai? Er... Kaoru-senpai?"

"What's it to you," the voice revealed itself to be Hikaru.

He stood before her in pre-ripped denim jeans and a sleek leather jacket. His ginger hair was slicked back with what she could only assume was some heavy industrial adhesive. He chewed on a tooth pick that was wedged in between his top teeth and bottom teeth, which he bared menacingly.

"You look different. Why is your hair styled like that?"

Another voice sounded from directly behind her. "Do you have a problem with it?" Kaoru slouched behind her, an exact replica of his brother with matching ensembles and all.

Setsuko's eyes gleamed happily. "Not at all. I think it's hot."

The twins felt their impending victory. "Yeah, well, who cares what you think?"

Kaoru sneered. "We don't dress up for you."

"Ah, I see," the blonde girl grinned. "You guys don't do shit for anybody, do you?"

They smirked, standing shoulder to shoulder and towering over her.

"So, Hikaru-senpai and Kaoru-senpai," she crossed her arms. "You guys got a smoke?"

One of them twitched. They were stumped. Was she serious? Did she really want a smoke?

"Nah I left that stuff at home. What these police walkin' around like they own the place," Kaoru shrugged nonchalantly.

There was a tense silence. Then, Setsuko broke out into a giddy smile. "Bravo! Bravo!"

"Wh-what are you goin' on about?" Hikaru grimaced while popping the collar on his leather jacket.

"Well, that was wonderfully done. You really played the character well," she complimented emphatically, clasping her fingers together. "So, what is it? A costume party? A theatre performance?"

The twins gawped at Setsuko who hadn't an ounce of sarcasm in her voice. They suddenly felt like they were 6 years old playing dress-up in oversized clothes, being humored by a mother.

"So, you don't like this kind of thing do you, Setsuko-chii?" Hikaru laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Were you being serious? Isn't it kind of silly?"

Kaoru shoved his hands into the tiny pockets of his jacket, grinning sheepishly up at her. "Maybe so,"

She paused, contemplating. Then she turned to walk off. "You know, I'm starting to think the whole bad-boy thing is a bit old."

Bad Boys were also not her type.

* * *

><p>On the way home from the shopping mall, she coincidentally passed by Mori who was playing a game of football with some local boys. Next thing she knew, the ball came whizzing in her direction, out of control. Luckily, Mori soared by like a superhero rescuing his damsel in distress and cradled the ball in the crook of her elbow. He stared at her, dabbing the sweat bulbs that glinted on his face with the hem of his shirt - this exposed his well toned stomach and pecs.<p>

"Thank you, Mori-san," she waved and walked off.

Athletic boys. Not her type.

* * *

><p>"Hunny-san?"<p>

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing glasses?"

Hunny looked very proud of himself, adjusting the thick frames of the glasses that were at least two times too big for his head. In fact, they were crooked and slipping every few seconds. He straightened his posture and articulated, "I always wear these when I study. You know, it's very important for a _University _student to keep up to date with his assignments and studying."

Setsuko smiled politely and agreed, but was still in disbelief that somebody her size with the voice of a child, a little darling like Hunny could be three years older than her and already attending University. She had the impression that he had begun to brag.

"I assure you, in _University _the work is much harder than in highschool. If you would like, I could be your tutor! Like a teacher, since I'm in _University _already."

"Really? That would be fantastic," she played along. "Since you're smart enough to get into _University_."

Hunny nodded earnestly. "Not to mention that I'm _old _enough to get into University, right, Setsu-chan?"

She gulped the caffeinated drink that Hunny had served her. Strangely enough, _she _hadn't requested Hunny that day at the Host Club but _Hunny _had requested her. They sat across a table from each other, sipping iced coffee, letting the clock tick away the uncharacteristic silences. Hunny was almost _never _silent. But today he was a collected version of himself.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you sitting on a stack of books, Hunny-san?"

Hunny reached across the table and grasped her hands. "Setsu-chan! I'm only reminding you how much _older _I am! I'm in _University_ and next year, I'll be able to drive!"

"Really? Waa ~ Hunny-san, you're amazing!"

He seemed extremely pleased with this answer but Setsuko gripped his fingers. "But, Hunny-san, why would you want to grow up? Isn't it more fun to eat cake and lemon squares and play with Usa-chan?"

"Cake? Usa-chan...?"

"That's right. If you grow up, you'll have to leave that behind. I like you without the stack of books..."

His lip trembled and it was over in an instant.

Hunny threw himself into her arms nuzzling his face into her shoulder and babbled tearfully. "I don't wanna give up cake and Usa-chan~! I don't want to! I just want to find out what you like! Setsu-chan~!"

Setsuko sighed and comforted the boy. It was all so simple. So transparent.

Also, older men were apparently _not _her type.

* * *

><p>Kyoya watched from afar in contempt as he realized that each of his Hosts failed at the given task. Failed. He gritted his teeth and tapped his pen anxiously against his clipboard. He didn't want to have to get his own hands dirty. <em>Seeing as how these imbeciles are more incompetent than I thought, I'll have no choice, <em>he thought bitterly.

So, he waited until closing time. The customers had bid their farewells and instead of assisting in the clean up party along with the rest of the hosts, Kyoya clacked away on his laptop biding his time by doing menial work that his father had assigned to him.

"Kyoya, we're finished here, aren't you going home?" Tamaki asked while scrubbing down their glass coffee table of all water-rings.

"Not yet. I'll finish this first. We can lock up."

Setsuko was flipping through a magazine next to him, relaxing her head on his shoulder when she heard this. "Tche! I don't want to stay here, Kyoya-kun." When he didn't reply, she folded her magazine but and peeked onto his computer screen. She saw scrambled useless information that meant nothing to her. "When will we be going home?"

Kyoya's hands hovered above the keys for a moment. "Aren't you the one who likes the two of us to have alone time...?"

"Only if we're going to have fun."

"And who says we aren't?"

He felt her tense against his shoulder.

"Is that the case?"

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."

Setsuko's hands began travelling up and down his arm. "I'm starting to like the idea of staying behind..."

"E-excuse me..."

The two of them craned their necks to see Tamaki and the Hosts standing behind the couch, each of them, with the exception of Mori, blushing profusely. "If you're going to have 'fun' don't do it on the couches..."

Kyoya's eyes sharpened. "Weren't you all going _home_?"

"Aha! Roger that, Kyoya-senpai! Enjoy yourselves!" The twins called out, ushering a flustered Tamaki out of the room and slamming the door behind them.

They were quiet for a few long moments. He could feel her eyes boring into him. Finally, he clicked his laptop shut and climbed on top of her. Setsuko entwined her fingers into his charcoal hair and pulled him closer. Their lips were nearly touching when she suddenly buried her face into his neck instead, kissing deeply and drinking in his scent.

"The Host Club has been acting really strange lately, huh?" She said. "Simultaneously trying to figure me out. Sounds organized, doesn't it?"

"I assure you," his breathing was jagged as her kisses drew a line from his jaw to his chest. "I know nothing of that."

Setsuko sunk her teeth into the skin beneath his collarbone. "Of course you don't, Kyoya-kun. I just wanted you to know that if you want to figure out my type, you shouldn't use your lackeys. You should follow through with good," she slipped her hand up his shirt, "old fashioned," and kissed his stomach. "Trial and error."

Kyoya crawled off of her, composing his appearance once again by fixing his disheveled clothes and his tangled hair. Setsuko simply picked up her crumpled newspaper (that they were incidentally, lying on top of) and began reading again.

"By the way, Kyoya-kun."

"Mm?"

"That isn't my type either."

He inhaled deeply. "Is that so?" He picked up his laptop and opened his document.

**Crossdressing - not her type  
>Bad Boys - not her type<br>Athletes - not her type  
>Older men - not her type<strong>

He shook his head ruefully.

**Sexy - not her type.**


	7. Quid Pro Quo

A/N: Hello readers! I'm so glad that you are following and, hopefully, reviewing. So Glee came back on on September 20th. FINALLY. Best show on TV. That made my week. In love with Blaine. Makes me wish I was gay. And a man.

You know what also makes me wish I was a gay man? SEASON 2 OF SEKAI'ICHI HATSUKOI THAT CAME OUT ON OCTOBER 7TH AND IT WAS AMAZING AND I DIED AT LEAST 4 TIMES!

Enjoy my chapter!

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: Quid pro Quo<p>

"I said, put it in your mouth."

"No, Kyoya-kun!"

"It was not a request. Put it in your mouth. _And _swallow."

"But I don't like the taste!"

"This is for your own good. Drink it up."

She grimaced at the abhorrent object and hesitantly opened her mouth; a small window of opportunity that Kyoya did not take for granted. He shoved it in and watched as she cringed and her face contorted, repulsed. Then, in an instant, it passed.

Kyoya blinked at her. "Better?"

Setsuko sniffled. "Yes, Kyoya-kun. I don't like cough medicine."

He carelessly tossed the spoon in the sink. "Please bear with it for now. Now open up again," he said. "It's time to check your temperature."

She obediently opened up her mouth and allowed him to stick the cold object under her tongue while she kicked her feet that were hanging off of the barstool that she sat upon. They were in the kitchen. She was sick.

Only the afternoon before, Setsuko declared that right after being released from the Host club, her and Kyoya go to the shopping mall. Apparently, she was unfufilled from her last shopping trip as she had been distracted by all the various toy stores that instead of purchasing a rather expensive pair of shoes, she 'accidentally' bought 8 teddy bears.

On the bright side, she gave one to Kyoya. He would never forget how it happened.

_"Ne, ne! Kyoya-kun! Look at what I bought! Look at all these teddy bears!"_

_He cracked his knuckles and felt a headache coming on. "And did you use the money your father sent you to buy clothes?"_

_"Eto..."_

_Kyoya heaved a sigh and began to massage his pulsing skull. One of the teddy bears was staring him down; beady black eyes, glossy and plastic. He glared at it. "Ah! So you like that one, huh, Kyoya-kun. You can have him."_

_"I don't want-"_

_"His name can be Kyochii. Like, Kyoya-chii."_

_One thing he had failed to take notice of at first glance was that the bear of the subject had a tiny pair of spectacles perched on the tip of his snout and a deep violet necktie strangling him around the throat._

_Something told him that this hadn't gone unplanned..._

No matter how it happened, the fact of the matter was that Kyoya and Setsuko had to make a visit to the commoner's shopping mall. The only thing Kyoya was grateful for was the fact that it had gone unpublicized by the Host Club. He counted his blessings.

The trip was nothing short of mundane. Setsuko had dragged him into nearly every women's store.

From that point in, it was always the same :

"Does this make me look fat?" or "Does this color match my hair?" or "Do these jeans make my butt look _too _big?"

He knew for a fact that this was not truly Setsuko's personality; she was simply acting the part to annoy him in every way possible.

Irritatingly enough, she succeeded.

However, in the end she decided that she would buy only one outfit. One outfit that she gushed over for a full 20 minutes. Yet another clever ploy to annoy him. Succeeded.

On the way back, it rained. The kind of downpour that created large, murky puddles at the sides of the road and created a sheet of water so thick one would not see past 10 yards. Kyoya immediately suggested ordering a taxi.

Much to his surprise, she took away his cellphone.

_"Just enjoy it."_

_"What are you going on about?" He ripped off his glasses that were becoming blurry with icy water. "If we stay out here, we'll both get sick."_

_Setsuko slipped his cellphone into her pocket. "Who cares?" She then continued to stroll, throwing her arms out and stretching her body to revel in the storm raging around her. At some point, she rooted her feet to the ground and became completely motionless, other than the steady rhythmic expanding and deflating of her chest and back as she breathed in deep._

_She reminded him of a rock near the shore of the sea, jutting up from the ocean floor. Completely still no matter what kind of hurricane it was in the midst of. Letting water spill over her; still never moving._

_"It was a hot day today, wasn't it?"_

_He stared at her for a long while. "Yes. It was."_

And, as he predicted, today she was sick.

She was normally the first person awake out of the two of them. As morning routine, she would rise and bathe and dress herself and have a platter of enough steaming eggs and sausages for the both of them, waiting at the foot of his bed and they would share a regular breakfast together - her bearing a contained excitement about her, and him being passive aggressive as usual. But when Kyoya awoke at 7:10 am alone in his bed room, initially, he thought, something was wrong.

When he found her, she was sniffling in her bed, buried in the duvet and refusing to come out. She resembled a hedgehog.

He personally took the day off from school to tend to her fever.

And there they were - in the kitchen.

Kyoya rarely ever entered the kitchen as there was normally no need. The food was prepared already and delivered to the dining room or bed room - the kitchen was nothing more than uncharted territory that had no relevance to him. He was an animal in an unfamiliar habitat. Needless to say, under the circumstances, he was not pleased.

He squinted at the thermometer which read that her temperature was only slightly higher than a normal body temperature. He pursed his lips. "It's just a cold. Be thankful."

Setsuko rubbed her eyes with her fists. "Mmm. It's only a cold, though. You shouldn't have stayed behind from school."

"Nonsense," he said as he strode over to the stove where a small pot of homemade chicken soup was broiling (a chef had come in to prepare it only minutes earlier). "As your nanny, I should be personally responsible for tending to your needs."

"Nanny?"

Kyoya pushed his glasses up his nose. "Let's not kid ourselves," he winked. "We know what my job _really _is."

She giggled, turning her already flushed face a more vibrant shade of red. "I like that. You're my _nanny_. Cute~!"

"Believe me, it isn't as cute on my end."

Just as Setsuko started to laugh, he heard her voice strain and she began hacking up a storm. He waited until the coughing finally tapered. "Go upstairs and wait in your bed. I'll have this brought up with some extra blankets."

Without any further arguments, she listlessly slid off of her highchair and on limp legs carried herself across the tiles and up the stairs. Kyoya stirred around in the kitchen, poking at the boiling stew every so often. His breath was heavy, and he found that his body was urging to be constantly in motion and that being still for too long would cause him to feel restless.

It was an awful feeling; overwrought and plain sickly.

_Did I perhaps catch her cold? _he thought while fingering the glass that he stole from the pantry to occupy his antsy hands. _No, that isn't it._

The chef that was in the kitchen earlier returned and was startled by Kyoya's presence. "Good gracious! Ootori-sama, please don't worry about the soup. I'll deliver it to Abukara-sama's room," he explained in one enormous breath, which only further aggravated Kyoya.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I'll deliver it."

"Please allow me to-"

"I said!" Kyoya barked, which alarmed the chef into a frightened silence. "I said that I will deliver it. If that was not my wish from the beginning, I would not be standing in the room. As a servant in the house, it would be in your best interest to offer services _when requested _and to not _annoy_ your employer."

The man stood stock still, then apologized profusely before fleeing the room.

_Why is it that I am so irritated today...?_

Kyoya could only dwell on that while he poured a large portion of soup into a bowl. A more important question sprung to his mind as well, _Why am I trying so hard? _Which was a pestering question for which he couldn't conjure up a logical answer.

Other than that he noticed she exhausted and weaker, much more than he'd ever seen before. For once, she didn't have a bounce in her step.

But of course, 'worry' was another emotion. Another spastic and senseless component of humans that could render them into erratic, wallowing puddles of sweat and tears that cannot be consoled with any reasoning whatsoever. And _that_ had _nothing _to do with logic.

He brought the bowl, a cashmere blanket and a few extra cushions to her room, only to find an empty bed.

Without an ounce of surprise, he went to his own room.

Setsuko was there. She let out a startled yelp when he came in and slammed the door behind him. She was no longer in her own clothes - instead, she had thieved and oversized t-shirt of his, along with a pair of navy blue boxers and his spare glasses which were sinking down her face slowly.

"Oh, Kyoya-kun! I thought we could do this like a real sleepover, since we have the house to ourselves and all," she said in a nasally voice due to the congestion.

"Ahha, I would expect nothing less from you. Those clothes are contaminated now, though."

She pouted. "Eh? How rude!"

"Who went through my drawers without asking? And took my boxers, no less," he droned. At the same time, he noted regretfully that he liked the way she looked with his glasses.

"Well," she shrugged. "At least I didn't put on your briefs. So it's okay, right?"

Kyoya felt much too fatigued to argue with her screwy perspective, so he dismissed it all and set the soup on the bedside table.

Setsuko wiggled under his covers and began devouring the soup gratefully but was careful not to drip on Kyoya's clothes. They sat there in the stillness, with only the chiming noise of her spoon knocking against the glass bowl and perhaps the odd audible swallow. A tranquility settled into the air. Both the bitter circumstances and Kyoya's worry fell away and he could rest peacefully, as if it were only a rainy afternoon.

_Staying home wasn't such a horrible idea, in the end, _he thought to himself as he slipped further under the covers. He slipped his glasses off onto the bedside table. He was sleepy. Lately, he'd been staying up running risk management on both the Host Club's endeavors and on the Ootori Group's business ventures. He was nestled just in the perfect position, basking in the glorious quietude.

All, of course, until she had eaten the whole bowl of soup and, out of boredom, began to rummage through his things.

"Kyoya-kun, can I have one?" Setsuko asked hopefully, pulling a small tin of candies from his drawer (he couldn't quite remember why he had them, other than that they were given to him and he'd been too lazy to throw them away). "Even if when I'm sick, I find I still want sweets. Maybe even more so."

Kyoya only glanced over his shoulder briefly. "No. Those may contain heavy traces of peanuts. It says on the box."

An unnatural silence came over the room. "And," she breathed. "_why _do you think that's a problem?"

"You're allergic to peanuts. And penicillin, sesame."

"Kyoya-kun..."

He hummed wearily. "Yes, Setsuko-san?"

"Why do you know my allergies?"

Kyoya knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep soon. He hoisted himself up by his arms and stared her blank in the face. "Isn't it only wise to research the subject before beginning an assignment? You were mine, and you can _trust _that I did my research."

Setsuko drew her knees to her chest, eyes glazing over as she fixated on the empty spaces of the room. "It's starting to get really frustrating."

"By that you mean?"

"Your knowing. About me. You even know my allergies. Isn't that a bit extensive? Considering I know nothing about you," she said as she stroked the curls in her hair. "Nothing at all."

Kyoya blinked. "Maybe it would be in your best interest to do some research yourself."

Setsuko battled back a wry smile. Then she rotated her body toward him. "Don't be silly, now. You know as well as I do that researching you would only be scratching the surface. As if _you _would released any _valuable_, _intimate _details to the general public."

"So maybe you do know a few things about me," he taunted.

Even as she was confronted with his teasing, her facial expression never altered - as per usual. Other than a few moments of excitement, Setsuko was always precariously close to apathy. The only difference was that she was always only mildly amused (mostly since she loved playing games nearly as much as the twins) and that there was a sadistic gleam in her eyes. A quality which she shared with Kyoya.

Perhaps the only quality.

Setsuko twisted the ends of her hair. "Ooh, Kyoya-kun. I've been _so _foolish. I've made myself vulnerable around you. I've slept in the same bed - left my door unlocked on late spring nights."

"Granted, you don't have a lock."

"Nevertheless," she piped. "I've been stupid. How am I to know what kind of person you are? If I'm to lend you my trust, I'll need to know a few things about you."

He scoffed quietly. "What on Earth makes you think that I would offer such information to you?"

She inched closer to him and her twiddling fingers wandered up and down his chest. "I should think that, as the gracious human being I know you are, you would offer it willingly. I've been such a good girl recently," Setsuko said. "I haven't tried to sneak out in 10 whole days. However, as _nice _as I've been, it'll be just as easy to reverse and start misbehaving again. In exchange for my cooperation, I trust that you'll answer a few trivial questions."

It was a legitimate argument, he had to admit. It was dirty, sleazy blackmail - but it was legitimate. Kyoya sat, being tickled by her fingertips, considering her proposal. _A few simple questions - what could she possibly do with my information...? _

"I'll cooperate. But only if you'll answer my questions as well. Information swapping - as well as your guaranteed cooperation."

"Quid pro quo," she over-pronounced. Without a second's hesitation, she agreed with terms. Before Kyoya could get a word in, she interjected. "Naturally, I'll get the first question."

"Be my guest."

He was the master of bluffing, the Shadow King. She was a worthy opponent.

She coughed. For a long time. Then sneezed.

Then finally, she decided. "What makes you angry, Kyoya-kun?"

_I should have predicted a question like this, _Kyoya smirked to himself. The answer was not complex and required no though - in fact, it was nearly instinctive.

"Tamaki."

Setsuko seemed disappointed by the concise answer.

"My question - why haven't you tried to escape in over a week?"

She pushed the oversized glasses back up the bridge of her nose, as they were constantly slipping down. "The Host Club is really interesting. It's enough to keep my entertained for the time being," she explained. "I really like Haruhi, too. Being in the Host Club is an excellent excuse to spend time with her, ne?"

"You're serious about her?" Kyoya was actually astonished. The thought of Setsuko being committed to anybody was unimaginable.

"Ah! Kyoya-kun - that's another question. Wait your turn," she winked. She began to fiddle with the elastic hem of his boxers, and he caught a glimpse of purple lace hugging her skin from beneath them. "Do you love her?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

Setsuko sucked in her bottom lip and Kyoya could detect her impatience. "Haruhi, of course."

"What would make you think that I love Haruhi?"

"What wouldn't?" She shrugged. "She's the only female that you care about - in fact, the only female you can tolerate being around."

Kyoya considered this and deemed it to be false. At times, he found that Setsuko could be _tolerable_. But he wasn't about to mention such. "I don't have any feelings for Haruhi other than respect. If I did, hypothetically, the King definitely wouldn't allow it."

The blonde stared intently with eyes round and shining like cerulean marbles. "I thought you were a man who wouldn't let a silly fool stop him from getting what you wanted. Aren't you?"

"Ah," he prodded his finger in the air. "That's another question. Who was the one going on about 'waiting turns'?" Kyoya permitted himself a snide smile. Setsuko, with a ghost of a grin, sat back on her heels and waited patiently.

His next question had been constructed over the past few weeks, in fact, since he had met Setsuko. The answer that couldn't be found on any database. It had been built up, then destroyed and reconstructed and demolished all over again; deliberated and deliberated and analyzed into a tiny, simple-sounding question - inside it, all of his questions and midnight musing compressed.

Without a flinch or blink, Kyoya stared her straight in the eye and asked, "What made you this way?"

She, in return, didn't so much as twitch. "I don't understand the question."

"I believe you _do_," he said with a voice barely above a whisper. "The way you are, sometimes. Unashamed at all times, walking around and giving strangers smiles like you don't matter."

He saw her nostrils flare - but her blue eyes remained unchanging. Her pink lips were set into a thin line. Unfaltering, he continued. "I've had a few theories myself. Pretty standard, textbook answers. I'm not sure they'll apply to you. Would you like to hear?"

"Please."

"As you wish." Kyoya stretched out his palms and then kneaded his eyelids. His vision without glasses was bleary and was only intensifying his headache. Fortunately, the sky that day was crowded with pendulant, black clouds and minimal amounts of sunshine dressed the room, leaving all corners darkened. He shut his eyes for a long while, and once he decided that the pain subsided, he cleared his throat. "Most girls like you have had traumatic experiences in their past. Corrupt, _horrible _pasts. Pasts that they like to store away in their minds, and it manifests itself into an apathy like none other... but that's not you, is it?"

Setsuko seemed intrigued but shook her head, no. "As I thought. My second theory... it's about your mother and father, isn't it?"

Less than intrigued now, her grin fell.

"As I suspected. Which means that it's all fake. These guises that you put up - it's revenge, isn't it? Your father is a cheater and your mother drinks. You play the part of the rebel to get revenge on their negligence, negligence toward each other and to you. Am I right?" Kyoya probed, ignoring how dangerously quiet she was being. "Or even a third theory. That it's all an elaborate defense mechanism. They hurt you. You avoid having serious relationships by treating people without seriousness. You use sex as deflection. Hiding behind a pathetic mirage to avoid being hurt. Am I hitting the target here?"

There was a prolonged pause. _I let my mouth run for much too long. _

Without amusement, Setsuko gently clapped her hands. "Wow. Wasn't that amazing?"

Kyoya awaited a reaction. She tented his fingers. "Ootori Kyoya-kun knows _everything_, doesn't he? Everything about everything. How does it feel being god? It must be nice~!"

The venom dripping from her voice was shocking. She practically hissed. Her eyes were narrow. Her hands were gnarled up like an eagle's talons, clutching at the hem of her shirt. Setsuko opened her mouth to speak again, but her breath caught and she began hacking. The illness was still swimming in her body.

"Jesus," she muttered when she finally finished coughing. "You don't know anything about me. If what you wanted was to tease me about my parents, you succeeded. But that is _not _what makes me what I am."

He raised an eyebrow and asked her to proceed.

Setsuko was giving a hard stare and she mocked, "_As you wish_... It's not about trauma. Or revenge. It's not even a defense mechanism."

Kyoya was a bit dubious; it wasn't uncommon for Setsuko to lie or manipulate words.

"It's about the way I was born. Born an Abukara, die whatever else my father wants me to die as," she said. "I'm not stupid. I know what my life is. Grow up as a nice young lady, be married off to a handsome bureaucrat or company CEO, bear 2 sons and a daughter and die. It's my fate; I've already accepted it. It won't be long before my first marriage interview."

"If you've accepted your 'fate', then why would you be skipping around New York City running away from it?"

The fury escaped from her body almost instantly and there remained her trademark tender smile and roaming hands. She shrugged. "I'm not running away from it. When my father tells me that I have a marriage interview, I will go. I'll wear a china-doll dress and long socks. And I'll put my bangs back, too... it could be tomorrow, it could be a month from now, or even a year. My destiny may catch up with me at any second. I don't see the benefit in sitting around in bed saying, 'Is it here yet?' What a waste that would be.

"So one day, a couple years ago, I'm sitting in my room with New York City blaring like a fire alarm all around me, and all that's seperating me from it is a brick wall. It occurs to me that I don't have a husband yet. I need to have fun now; I need to take control of the time that still belongs to me. Before it's gets given to a man. I need to do what I want before my duty calls. I need to kiss somebody. I need to dance with somebody. I need to get lost or sleep in the backseat of somebody's car, I need to fall down! Laugh until I cry, cry until I laugh and just wear my hair however I _goddamn _please..."

Her arms were raised up in the air as if speaking with the heavens. She let her shoulder muscles and relax and her arms fell to her sides as she sighed woefully. "What I need is to act without thinking. Even if I embarrass myself, I want to say the first thing that comes to my mind, because I may never be able to speak my mind again. It's important to just take control..."

Kyoya understood that urge; the yearning to 'take control'. There were quite a few things that he wished to take control of but those were things that his position in life restricted him from. The stain of being a fourth born child. The colossal smudge on his life. "And the news articles? You continue to do these things even with the publicity?"

Setsuko frowned. "I never meant for anybody to find out. My parents don't deserve to be dishonoured like that. It was an accident. When my destiny comes, I will not allow myself to be the things that I love. This is my responsibility," she said stoically.

"I never imagined you to be so," he paused, "dutiful."

"Ooh, dutiful. Sounds _awful. _Please don't call me such a dreadful thing~!" Setsuko was giggling. "Besides, it's not decided that I'll hate my life. Maybe my husband will be wonderful and handsome and exciting and he'll sweep me off my feet. The only thing I want is for me to be a grandmother and to tell my grandchildren, 'I wasn't always so lame. I lived too.' I just don't want to be full of regret."

He blinked. Yet again, she astonished him. Her personality was swinging from one extreme to the other. Kyoya was leaning toward her and waiting for more to spout out of her mouth, something wild, nonsensical, emotional. There was something inebriating about the way she spoke about taking control; or rather losing control (he couldn't tell.) She was unpredictable. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not.

"Setsuko-san..." his breathing was broken and his head was pounding like mad. When Setsuko finally noticed that Kyoya's gray eyes were drilling into her, she beamed.

"You look like the sick one right now, Kyoya-kun. Are you okay?"

He leaned forward unconsciously, closer and closer to feeling her body heat. "I'm fine."

Her eyes softened and she pressed a few of her silky fingers to his milky white cheek. "Ne, Kyoya-kun, have you fallen in love with me yet?"

Kyoya froze, then leaned backward, trying to distance himself from her fingers. "I have not. Try again." Those words tumbled out of his mouth instinctively, but he felt rattled. His breath was staggering and head reeling with the pangs from his headache. _I really am too tired to function properly. _He lied back down, gently crashing down on his pillow.

He felt something grab him around the waist.

Setsuko had slipped under the covers and had slithered her arms around his body, and had her forehead pressed against his. Kyoya felt how hot she was; how sweat was nearly breaking on her brow. He blinked through the blonde hairs that were falling in his eyes.

"Ne, Kyoya-kun, I bet my husband will be like you."

"Mm?"

"A boring glasses freak."

"Probably," he yawned. He reluctantly closed his eyes. An attempt to magic her away. But it was still reality; she was touching him, embracing him.

Sleep was finally beginning to seize him as he felt a floating sensation, like he was lounging on a rocky boat and the only noise that pacified him was her breathing through parted rosy lips.

_I'm going to get sick. Very sick._


	8. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read

A/N: Sorry for this extra chapter, but I forgot to include it in chapter 7.

Does anybody have a picture in their mind that they think of when they think of Setsuko? Can anybody draw one?

I would like to put up a picture reference from Deviantart to link to the story, a picture of Setsuko. Anybody who has a DeviantArt account, can you send me a drawn picture of how she looks? THAT WOULD BE AWESOME! THANK YOU!


	9. Beach

A/N: Woah, two reviews last chapter? Why, that's goddamn amazing. I was soo happy! Thank you! :D Also, I asked in the last author's note, what do we think Setsuko looks like? Well, I drew a picture and I will put it on Deviantart (when I make an account) and I'll put a link so everybody can see! I'll draw a few for reference!

Anyways, thank you, and read on. :)

* * *

><p>Chapter 8: Beach<p>

"Stop it. You cannot keep doing this," Setsuko murmured into the cellphone receiver. She was crouched into the corner of a bathroom stall, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. There were always personal butlers and hired servants roaming around the bathrooms. She couldn't risk having one of their masters overhearing her conversations.

"I don' care what you say to me," they grunted. "I am not gon' stop loving you!"

She sighed quietly. Then cringed, trying to choke out the overflow of words coming from her mouth. "I can't do this anymore. This is just... too complicated now. It was okay at first, but you have to understand; I'm in Japan now. I'm getting a fresh start."

"Oh, a fresh start? With that _guy_? That asshole?" There was coughing and gagging on the other end of the phone. "That guy only cares about his company. He would sell you off to the highes' bidder in an instant."

Setsuko's breathing got shallow. Her heart was hammering to the beat of a metronome; she could hear nothing but blood pumping in her ears and static, static scratching at her ears.

When Setsuko didn't respond for a long while, the breathing over the one got thicker. "You know I'm right. I'm the one who loves you the mos'."

"Don't... don't bother calling. I'm not doing this with you anymore."

"I don' believe you, darling. You always come back."

She kneaded her scalp. "Bye. I love you..."

Before there was a response, Setsuko hurled her cellphone to the floor and the thwack of the gadget shattering against the tiles echoed in the bathroom. It had been smashed into five chunks. She groaned and with the squared heel of her shoe, stomped and stomped and stomped until she was completely sure it was annihilated. It was lying on the floor in shambles.

_I won't get any phone calls on that. It's over_, she shakily thought to herself. _It's over. _She felt hollow. Like a certain part of her was empty, anticipating and anticipating her pernicious addiction to fill up the dark spaces. But it wasn't 'filling' at all. It was 'consuming'.

_Consuming. Right. That person is a sucker; a life sucker, an energy sucker. A consumer. _She assured herself. She gingerly swept the cellphone remnants into her palm and dropped them into the toilet. With a reposing breath, she pushed the handle and watched the wrenched discards of metal be sucked into a pipe, forever, by a cyclone of water.

* * *

><p>Math lessons were always monotonous. The teacher was prattling on about it, noisily flipping textbook pages. Sometimes, her keen-edged acrylic nails would scrape the blackboard. She also had a nasty habit of smacking her lips. Additionally, Tamaki sat next to Kyoya and always insisted on making sound. Fumbling with candy wrappers or groaning in frustration when he didn't know an answer; occasionally, he would lean over to Kyoya and start a conversation during independent work time..<p>

Needless to say, he found it difficult to focus in math class. Not that he needed to; it was a subject he was more than familiar with. Instead, he concentrated on more prominent details in his life.

The night before, Yoshio had done something uncharacteristic, which was quite shocking considering that it was Yoshio. The man was nothing if not a complex formula; so predictable that it was mechanical. As if he were nothing but a computer.

_Yoshio's office was much dimmer than usual, as the only light was radiating from an enervated desk lamp. His father seemed unusually fatigued, but firm as always._

_"In a few weeks time," he cleared his throat gruffly while loosening his necktie. "Yuuji will be returning to Japan after his trip to Europe to inspect the progress of his Paris projects. The hotel is ranking only third; however, the production of the new line of wine is going swimmingly."_

_Kyoya loved when his father discussed business with him. It gave him a grasp on his impending future. "Excellent."_

_"Yuuji is Yuuji; since the day he left Setsuko in our care, he's phoned me twice a week. Recently, calls have been becoming more frequent. It seems he is still apprehensive. I assured him that she has been well taken care of. This is true, of course?"_

_He bowed his head. "Yes, father."_

_At first, he seemed disbelieving. He leaned closer to Kyoya, pressing his abdomen against the desk. "Is that so? So all requirements were met; no parties, no boys, no inappropriate contact between the two of you?"_

All of the above_, he thought. And more. If Yuuji knew about the countless times they had nearly kissed, she'd undressed in front of him and they slept in the same bed on late weekend mornings, he would have a heart attack, Kyoya reckoned._

_But instead of mentioning all of this, he simply kept up his blank facade and said, "Those things were successfully avoided."_

_"Mm," Yoshio made a noise of approval, which boosted his son. "As you know, at that time, we will be hosting a dinner party at one of Abukara's banquet halls to commemorate Ootori Group's 20th anniversary, and the inauguration of our newest relaxation facility. For the latter, it is important that both Yuuji and Setsuko be seen by the press."_

_Kyoya knew that the rehabilitation/relaxation centers were the only areas of business in which Yoshio and Yuuji collaborated. Abukara enterprises dispensed many of their laborers (specifically the ones who had acquired skills in dealing with customers, like bartenders or masseurs) into those facilities and also supplied entertainment and drink. The dinner party was a huge commercial for both groups._

_"I understand, father," he said, although none of this was new information, so in short, he _didn't _understand why he had been called._

_"I am enlisting your services. That of the Host Club's."_

_The statement sounded ridiculous coming out of Yoshio's mouth; Kyoya considered for a while that his ears may have been playing nasty tricks on him. His father thought Host Club was a farce. He wasn't sure how to react but decided to take the bait. "How can we be of service to you?"_

_"I've witnessed the club and your affect on your classmates. Many of your classmates, and also the daughters of the associates will be attending the party. Should you and the Host Club join the waitperson staff and breach into the entertainment staff, the daughters and wives will be pleased. Also, Yuuji requested the Host Club. You're aware that he's very fond of you."_

_Have the Host Club tend to an Ootori dinner party? The thought made Kyoya anxious, since the Host Club carried trouble wherever they went. If any commotion befell the party due to the Club, the damage with his father would be irreparable._

_Still, Yoshio had him cornered. Refusing a request would also be unwise. He had no choice. "The Host Club is at your service, father."_

Snapping him out of his reverie, Kyoya's phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

He discreetly slipped his phone out of his pants and peered at the screen. It was a blaring red notification which read, **GPS ERROR : CHIP 73878 NO LONGER AVAILABLE/OUT OF RANGE!**

"Ne, Kyoya? What is that?" Tamaki craned his neck to see what was emitting the faint red glow.

Kyoya took a moment to process, then raised his hand, politely beckoning the teacher. "Sensei?"

"What is it, Ootori-san?"

"May I be excused? Unfortunately, there seems to have been an emergency and I need to be present," he explained, but was unable to properly control the speed at which he was speaking. "It is _quite _urgent."

The teacher glowered and excused him. Kyoya kept a rhythm in his mind to that of a jazz song he'd heard recently so he could time his movements to the beat: steady and slow. He couldn't show any signs of panic before his classmates; especially Tamaki, who would panic twice as hard.

_It's probably a misunderstanding. There is no point in overreacting, _he exhaled through his teeth, softly, before taking his book bag and exiting the classroom in an orderly fashion.

Once out of the classroom, Kyoya flipped open his book back and drew out a wrinkled leaf of paper. He unfurled it; it was Setsuko's schedule. Yoshio _had _warned him not to underestimate his challenge, and it wasn't like Kyoya to be ill-prepared. He found that she was in English class (a class that she was passing with flying colours.)

He let the click of his heels against the hallway tile keep the changeless beat as he walked. _That's 1 and 2, and 1 and 2... _Kyoya was getting progressively irritated with himself. Being so fussy; when had this tendency developed?

He rapped on the door a few times and waited for it to slide open. Inside the classroom was about 30 students, curiously craning their necks to see who was standing in the doorway. In an instant, his eyes skimmed the class and noticed Setsuko giving him an indecipherable stare.

The teacher was startled to have the school's male genius standing in the doorway. "Ootori-kun? This is a surpri-"

"I apologize for the interruption, Sensei, but something urgent has come up. A familial issue; I need to speak briefly with Abukara-san."

No teacher could resist the charms of the Shadow King. The man didn't understand a thing, but blustered, "O-of course? Whatever you -"

"Setsuko-san," Kyoya called sweetly, with hidden malice. She seemed to detect it because she hurriedly collected the ballooning skirt of her uniform and scuttled out of the classroom.

The door latched closed before he began to speak. Like his speed, he couldn't control the volume of his voice very well. It was unusually loud. "Your GPS chip cannot be found," was the first thing he said, not knowing exactly what face to make, or how to position his body. "I was concerned about your whereabouts."

She seemed equally perplexed by the situation. "A-ano... my cellphone broke..."

_That was the most likely explanation. This was certainly an overreaction_. "I see," he pushed his glasses up his nose. "That won't do. We'll have to get you a new one, with a new GPS chip."

Setsuko tilted her head to the side. This was the first time Kyoya noticed that she was wearing a new hair ribbon that was twisted into the yellow swirls of her hair - white satin. "Ne, Kyoya-kun? Weren't you in class just now? Why did you come all the way here?"

"Had it been an emergency, it would be important to treat it with a little seriously," he said. "You understand."

She hummed thoughtfully. "Yes, I understand." She nodded her head conclusively. "I understand that you were 'concerned' about me."

Kyoya droned, "Is that what you got out of what I said?"

"But isn't that essentially it?"

"Essentially," he regarded. "But certainly not in the same way you're referring to. It seems you have my motives twisted - in the end, that will become troublesome for you."

Now, she was tapping her toes against the polished floor, an incessant _tack-tack _noise that aggravated him. She yanked at the skinny bow dangling from her neck. "That is quite an ego you have there, Ootori-san. And also, a blatant lie, isn't that right? Your motives are exactly as I say. It's unadulterated _worry_. For me. Hm?"

Kyoya sneered softly. "Clearly, you have learned nothing about me.

"Mou," Setsuko chuckled. "Don't underestimate me. I've learned quite a bit about you. It's difficult for you to express your feelings. I know _that _for sure," she said before twirling around and swaggering back into the classroom.

_What an annoying way of speaking, _he seethed. _Perhaps next time an emergency occurs, I'll take my _time.

Recently, he was increasingly bothered by her presence. Ever since her sickness wore off. Her cold may have been cured, but the fact that he had fallen asleep in her arms, with their faces centimeters away - _that _would never vanish.

* * *

><p>Host Club was nearly concluded for the day. There were a few lingering stragglers who were finishing off one last cup of tea before bidding goodbye.<p>

The twins were being quite overdramatic.

Everybody had noticed. It began with the vague commenting from Kaoru to Hikaru, "Ne, Hikaru - aren't you beginning to sweat a little bit?"

And Hikaru would squeeze his amber eyes tight and say, "Really! Perhaps somebody should open a window in this room!"

Kyoya was reading a novel as he was listening to the whining of the twins. _I'll let Tamaki take care of this one. _Setsuko was settled comfortably against his arm, reading along.

"Kyoya-kun," she said. "This is probably gonna get loud, hm?"

He said nothing, but sighed.

Finally, the King who was in the middle of seducing a 2nd year, whipped around and pumped his fist in their direction. "Oy, oy! What are you two annoying baboons wailing about? You're disturbing a beautiful thing going on over here!"

Hikaru and Kaoru simultaneously simpered, waltzing directly up to Tamaki with flourishing hand motions. "Ne, ne, sir?" They exchanged with each other, a devilish glance. "Isn't it getting hot? A little _too _hot?"

They whirled around him, switching sides back and forth. "Yes... it _is _hot..." He was becoming captivated by the twin's hypnotism.

"Sooo..." Hikaru said.

"What do people do," Kaoru continued.

"When it gets too hot?"

The hint slowly ripened in Tamaki's deranged mind. The blonde broke out into a crazed grin. "Everybody! The twins have the right idea!"

Hikaru and Kaoru snickered and phased into the background as the King gathered up all the Host Club members next to the couch that Kyoya and Setsuko were nestled into (the two of them had not stopped reading.)

"I have another magnificent idea!" Tamaki tossed his arms up in the air. "As we did last year and had a spectacular time, the Host Club should take another vacation! To the beach!"

The Hitachiin twins began applauding and cheering, "Hurray! Long live the King!"

Haruhi kissed her teeth. "Hikaru, Kaoru. You should stop manipulating Tamaki-senpai so much."

They continued sniggering at their sneakiness. "Ne, ne, Haruhi!" The blonde frenchman galloped to stand before her, with his hands clasped together in front of his chest. His lavender eyes were wide and shimmering. "You'll come, right? Right?"

"A-ah, I think I'll pa-"

"Haru-chan!" Hunny cuddled her. "You have to come! It won't be any fun if Haru-chan isn't there!"

"Haa..." she deflated.

Kyoya felt Setsuko shift next to him. He looked to her and she was staring at him hopefully. "Kyoya-kun... are we going...?"

_Like a four year old. _"If it's already been decided. I'll have to make all the arrangements..."

She sprang up from the couch cushions and bolted to Haruhi, squeezing her petite fingers. "Haruhi-senpai! You have to go. We have to stick together, hmm?" Setsuko bit her lip, caressing the creamy backside of her hand.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-" Tamaki was stammering, eyes flaring with rage. "S-Setsuko-chan! Don't touch my Haruhi like that!"

"Eh? Tamaki-senpai, you never told me that you and Haruhi-senpai were dating!"

The last few customers of the Host Club who were idly onlooking perked up, exploding into murmurs. Tamaki flushed brilliant shades of red and pink. Haruhi gave him a severe stare. "Haruhi and I aren't dating!"

"Really?" Setsuko chimed. "In that case, she isn't 'your' Haruhi at all. Right?"

Tamaki stuttered with his eyes moistening, pointing his finger at himself, then Haruhi, then himself again, until finally Setsuko wheeled the brown-eyed girl around. By this time, the customers were being ushered out by Takashi (who knew that the conversation was about to be revealing.) Setsuko decided to speak freely. "So, anyway, Haruhi-senpai! What bathing suit are you going to wear?"

At this point, the twins loomed over with maniacal smirks on their faces. "Is Haruhi going to wear a _bi-ki-ni?_"

"N-n-n-n-never! My Haruhi will never show herself off in that way!" Tamaki stamped his heel to floor.

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "Since when do any of you dictate what I wear?"

Hunny was bouncing on the tip of his toes. "Haru-chan _should _wear a bikini! You'll look so cute~!"

Setsuko batted her voluminous eyelashes, accentuating her resplendent cobalt eyes. "Mm. You will look cute. And we have to match. I'm wearing a bikini too."

Hikaru perked up. "Setsuko-chii is going to wear a bikini too?"

Although up until that point, Kyoya was only partially listening to the conversation, this snagged his undivided attention. Something perturbed him about the image of Setsuko in a bikini (he envisioned it to be pink) lying on a beach chair in plain sight - where Hikaru was, where Kaoru was, where _anybody _was in a mile radius.

Just as Setsuko turned her smoldering eyes to a flustered Hikaru, Kyoya interjected. "She will not be wearing a bikini."

The blonde girl halted and her mirthful expression melted. She rotated only her head to stare at Kyoya. "I won't?"

"Absolutely not."

"And," her eyes narrowed. "why not?"

_This sort of argument is getting repetitive. _He rose from the couch and daintily made a crease in his page before folding his novel shut. "Yuuji put a restriction on such scandalous clothing. I've been greatly lenient about your attire in the privacy of our own home, but in a public place, you must be _fully _clothed and appropriate at all times."

The Host Club was beginning to have a discomfort that was amplified with every second that ticked by. It was clearly a domestic argument; nevertheless, it was difficult to look away.

"Oh, I see." Setsuko sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. "You're really full of shit today, aren't you?"

The vulgar curse word rolled off of him. A few strands of his ebony hair drooped down in front of his face. "Would you care to explain that?"

"You don't care about my father's rules. If you did, we wouldn't have snuck out together. We wouldn't have slept in the same bed. We wouldn't have-"

"Those things," he interrupted before his integrity completely crumbled. "were a different matter. You may receive more negative publicity, which is opposite of what you need at the moment."

She squared her jaw. "Don't tell me what to do."

"That's what I'm here for."

Everybody remained absolutely still, as if any unnatural movements would disrupt the scene and cause some disaster. In his peripheral vision, Kyoya could see Haruhi's eyes anxiously shifting from Setsuko to himself. Finally, Setsuko disturbed the air by huffing angrily and spitting, "I'll be waiting in the _car._"

The seven Hosts watched her storm out of the room with her golden curls cascading all around her, springing with every thudding step she took.

"Ne, Kyo-chan, maybe you should apologize..." Hunny muttered.

"Setsuko-chan never gets that angry, usually," Tamaki's eyesbrows furrowed and he munched on his nails.

Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "She is melodramatic. There is no reason for me to apologize."

"Isn't there?" Kaoru said.

"Hm?"

"Well. Maybe Kyoya-senpai should apologize for ordering her around, just because you don't want other men looking at her."

Kyoya pivoted on his heel to face Kaoru, nearly shouting; then, he saw the genuine expression on his face. Not a trace of humour - only the slight twinge of pity. He was once equipped with biting insults and snappy retorts, but as he gazed up Kaoru's face, his mind went blank.


	10. Care

A/N: Hola! So, apparently, my frickin' scanner is NOT working. I'm still in the process of trying to fix it, but for now, the Setsuko pics will have to wait. Not that they're any good XD Just thought you might be interested.

Special thanks to all reviewers! I WANT TO LOVE YOU DOWN!

PS.  
>LOTS OF TAMAKI IN THIS CHAPTER.<br>MIGHT BE RIDICULOUSLY LONG.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9: Care<p>

Even before the car left the driveway, Kyoya quickly understood that this trip may be more than he bargained for.

On top of secretly organizing the Host Club for his Father's banquet, he had to deal with travelling arrangements to visit a family friend's private beach. The customers would not be accompanying the Club on this vacation, so he made arrangements for a semi-private beach owned by a family friend who absolutely adored him. This gained him access to that family's beach villa for the three day long weekend and service from their chefs and maids.

It was a fairly good deal; had he haggled, he could have gotten exclusive access to the beach and permission to take their yacht out for a ride.

It was only the Host Club participating in the excursion, therefore, not much effort needed to be expended. The deal was satisfying.

It had been a couple days since Tamaki suggested the idea. Since then, Setsuko had been acting suspiciously cold toward him. They still shared meals together as usual but she had been tight-lipped. It was partly a relief, and partly frustrating. It was certainly refreshing not to have to decipher her roundabout manner of speaking, but she had also been dealing out bitter stares at every possible second.

It was annoying.

That morning, he was packing his own suitcase as he wasn't comfortable when the help rearranged his things. He was calmly placing his clothes in a neat, particular order. He could hear Setsuko in her own room that was not seven steps from his own, up the small staircase, shuffling around.

She was probably packing some superfluously large suitcase with useless things in it, he thought. Like any other female would.

His hand touched something lumpy. Withdrawing it quickly, he looked at the object; Kyochii the teddy bear. Kyochii bore his inky eyes directly into Kyoya's. He picked up the animal to examine it and stroked his brillo-like fur with his thumb. Even the colour shade was consistent with Kyoya's hair; they were twins.

He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about being likened to a stuffed animal, but it wasn't as if his opinion would be heard by Setsuko. She was, of course, hopelessly eccentric. Moreover, at the moment, she was blindly furious, without question.

_She must have gotten it from Yuuji. I can't imagine him acting any different from her, _he thought. _How my father has stayed friend with that man for so many years is an utter mystery._

"Kyoya-kun."

"Hmm?"

He angled his head to look at her. She stood pigeon-toed, although hardly noticeable, in white sandals that wedged between her toes and had cuffs around the ankles. She was wearing a pale pink sundress, that flowed out from under the bust and cut just short of her knee, rimmed with lace at the neckline and bottom hem. She was wearing an over-sized wicker sun hat with a black tulle ribbon tied around it. Unlike a regular day during which her hair would be expertly curled with the bangs clipped to the top of her head, her blonde hair was pulled into a low side-ponytail that rippled down with the curves of her body.

"Are you ready to go?" Setsuko asked with a chilling undertone.

He stared at her for a long time, analyzing her outfit, contemplating if it was appropriate or not.

"Hmm. I'm finished packing. Head out to the car," was what he replied with, but she had left before he even finished. He rolled his eyes at her continuing dramatics and ordered a butler to tend to his suitcase and hers.

When Kyoya reached the foyer of the house, the rest of the Host Club already waited in excitement. Aside from Haruhi, of course. Every trip the to beach that the Host Club took always seemed to end in some fiasco and Kyoya knew Haruhi wanted nothing more than to disassociate herself from it. Setsuko was trying desperately to enthuse her.

She linked arms. "This is going to be fun, hmm, Haruhi-senpai?"

The brunette chuckled uneasily. "Ahh, maybe. Let's just hope so."

"If things get too crazy," Setsuko said. "The two of us can just leave these idiots and pretend we don't know them, right?"

Haruhi laughed and nodded. "Right, right!"

Hunny and Mori observed inconspicuously. "Ne, Takashi! Maybe Haru-chan and Setsu-chan will fall in love on the vacation!"

"Be careful about what you say, Mitsukuni," Mori shifted his eyes side-to-side to make sure that Tamaki and the twins were out of earshot. He didn't check for Kyoya, who _had _heard.

_Hmm. Haruhi is much too smart, _he snuffed and watched the two girls huddled up together, whispering and giggling. He ground his molars. _It's about time we leave anyway._

"Everybody to the cars," he spoke over their clatter (Tamaki and the twins were bickering about lord-knows-what).

"Ne, Haruhi-senpai!" Setsuko beamed. "Let's sit together. I'll save you from Tamaki-senpai."

"Ah, please," she chuckled. They sauntered out to the car, linked by the elbows.

Kyoya was startled by the notion of the two girls sitting together; he then realized that he had unconsciously expected that _he_ and Setsuko would be seated together. He brushed it off as merely force of habit. _It doesn't matter, either way. It isn't necessary for us to be seated together. I'm sure even Setsuko knows how to put on a seatbelt._

"Ne, Kyoya!" Tamaki called. "Eh, even though I wanted to sit with my Haruhi, this is okay, right? Now _we_ can sit together for the whole ride!" He threw his arms up in the air, expecting a loving embrace from his 'wife'.

_How nauseating..._

Kyoya walked up to the driver, Aoi, who had played chauffeur for the Ootori main-family for several years (despite his visible youth). When he caught sight of Kyoya, he tipped his hat and winked. "Afternoon, bocchan!"

"Nakamura family deluxe beach suite," Kyoya said wearily and provided the address and phone numbers

"Will do!" Aoi, who had a charming smile with a sharpened fang and untidy tawny hair, saluted playfully. "I think the foreigner, er, the halfie is calling you."

Irritated, he whipped around to see Tamaki with an obscenely large, star-shaped pair of sunglasses balancing on his nose, waving animatedly, like some clown.

_This is going to be a long car ride._

* * *

><p>Setsuko found, about a month ago, that it was easy to be swept up in the ridiculousness of the Host Club's antics. In the stretch car that they were riding to the beach in, she was drowning in it. To her right was Haruhi, arguing with Tamaki who was directly in front of her. To her left, was Hunny rambling about the cakes he was going to eat when they got to the beach to Mori. Behind her sat the twins who were mocking everything that Tamaki was saying, then guffawing at their own hilariousness.<p>

Then there was Kyoya. In front of her.

He sat window-side, looking disinterested in his atmosphere. Just gandering out the window at the scenery zooming past. Breathing lightly, blinking slowly, unmoving.

For some reason, unbeknownst to herself, Setsuko had been _constantly_ surveilling Kyoya. She should have been happy enough to sit beside Haruhi. However, the circumstances were nothing like she'd imagined. Her and Haruhi weren't sparkling or close or stealing kisses from each other while the boys weren't looking.

It had been nearly impossible to be anywhere within a 5 metre radius of Haruhi without thinking about that _first _kiss. Setsuko could hardly stomach it all; Haruhi's lips, her teeth, the point of her nose, her hands, the benevolent way she said, _Welcome to the Host Club_. The way she was gratuitously altruistic at every moment, even when being in an ocean of self-serving lunatics.

When she gave herself room to think, Setsuko was swamped with all these little things that she liked about Haruhi and couldn't seem to put them in order from most to least, as hard as she tried—partially, because she was finding it difficult to rate anything 'least'. Not Haruhi's lips. Not her teeth, the point of her noise, her hands nor anything and everything else that she thought was lovely about Fujioka Haruhi.

But sitting next to her, so close that not even a simple muscle movement would go undetected, it did not mirror her fantasies. Haruhi was too absorbed with Tamaki to pay any special attention to Setsuko.

It was upsetting. It made her wish that she had sat with Kyoya.

It seemed he always seem to make time to give her special attention, even if he was busy. Setsuko quietly reflected on one night when she snuck into his room and he was diligently typing away at the computer, but stopped, almost instinctively, to stay with her.

It was a small, meaningless everyday occurrence. Still, she felt as though overlooking it may be a little too modest. Maybe it _did _mean something - all of his special attention.

On the other hand, thinking like that, may be too arrogant. It could have meant nothing at all.

_I'm severely over-thinking everything, _she sighed.

At the same time, she remembered the way he told her what to do. Ordered her. Like she was a dog that should rightfully beg for a biscuit from his owner or a child — a disobedient child. She furrowed her brow. What angered her the most about his dictation of her life was that somewhere deep inside her, she was aware that he didn't care for her.

After all, it was Ootori Kyoya. 'Care' was not in his natural vocabulary. It was replaced with 'Merit', 'Gain' and 'Benefit'. That was what separated him from a father, she thought. A father guides you out of love and care. Kyoya most likely ordered people around for the sadistic self-satisfaction of wielding power. _And he still has the guts _not _to apologize after all this time. What an ass._

Setsuko set her glare upon him. _Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Apologize, you idiot. _Kyoya continued to stare out the window.

She gritted her teeth and resigned, crossing her arms over her chest and decided to turn her attention back to Haruhi. Haruhi didn't so much as look at her.

* * *

><p>He was right.<p>

The trip _was _exhaustingly long.

He was caught between a wall and Tamaki, who had chosen precisely then to have a love crisis. From the very beginning, he began jabbering, "Neee, Kyoya. Even though I asked Haruhi to sit with me in the car, she refused! Now, she's sitting with Setsuko-chan! This is unacceptable! What if we're growing apart? What if..."

Eventually, he just tuned him out.

Instead, Kyoya was paying close attention to Setsuko. He expected her to be a little more rowdy on this vacation, but on the drive to the beach, she'd been abnormally reticent. The entire time, he had taken to watching her reflection in the car window. Her activity had been low and dull.

Although, he noticed one thing. _She stared at me a lot, _he thought.

By the middle of their trip, she was napping.

When he noticed that she'd fallen asleep, he had a nagging feeling that, due to her weak immune system, she would catch another nasty cold. He spread his jacket over her body, then retreated to the window.

By the end of the trip, (as his torture was ending,) Hunny, like Setsuko, had tuckered himself into a snooze leaning against Mori's burly arm. Tamaki and the twins were playing a messy, confusing game of poker that was only complicated by Kaoru (who got bored) making up ridiculous fake rules and trying to convince Tamaki that they were real. Haruhi was reading a novel, assuming her role as the 'normal' Host.

It was torment — Kyoya was thanking the heavens that he could be released from the car.

They were disembarking the vehicle, lugging their suitcases as well. From the runway of the driveway, they could see the beach and a few strangers basking in the warmth or splashing in the water.

Tamaki got a glimpse of the sea and his eyes brightened at the glittering tides. "Waah ~ The sea!"

Kyoya blinked back at the sizzling sun, watching the waves. "Almost makes the car ride worth it, right, Kyoya-senpai?" Kaoru nudged him before slinging his bag over his shoulder and grinning.

He didn't reply. He looked back to the car and noticed faint shadows beyond the tinted windows. As he approached, he noticed that Haruhi was trying to wake up Setsuko, unsuccessfully.

He fought back a peculiar urge to be the one to wake her up. Instead, he retrieved his suitcase from the trunk of the car and directing the rest of the Host Club toward the beach villa.

The villa was enormous and impressive in all respects. Built with ivory wood planks with roof tiles the colour of paprika, it looked like a Californian dream beach-house. The windows were spotless; a few had balconies that overlooked the beach. It had a porch that wrapped around the perimeter of the house, with a staircase that lead directly down to the shore, ensconce in various places by tropical growth, colourful trees and floral bushes.

"Amazing!" The astounded voice of Haruhi awed from behind them. She was supporting a half-sleeping Setsuko with her body. "Do we really get to stay in such a luxurious place? Is it really okay?"

"You're so naive, Haruhi!" Hikaru chuckled and put his hands behind his head. "_Our _beach villa is twice that size! You should visit sometime!"

"I'll pass," she droned with an eye-roll and hauled her suitcase, along with Setsuko, towards the house.

Everybody entered the house and immediately began to situate themselves into the rooms since the place was already neatly kept by maids and butlers.

Hunny and Mori were sharing and room, as were Hikaru and Kaoru. Tamaki blinked. "Ne, Kyoooya! Let's share a room! Huh? Huh?"

"No."

"But-!"

"No, Tamaki."

"Kyooo-"

"No. Besides, I've already assigned the rooms."

He ignored Tamaki's depressed whimpers and directed people into their rooms.

Of course, like a game of chess, he had strategically placed his pawns and guarded the king. At the south end of the hallway was the Twins' room. Approaching the north end, Tamaki's room, then Hunny and Mori's, then Haruhi's, then his own, and at the most northern point of the hall was Setsuko's room.

In this way, he had complete control of all the shenanigans that may occur. By placing Haruhi's room next to his, he could make sure that there was no funny business with Tamaki or any one of the twins (or both), for Haruhi's sake. His room was at a corner of the hallway, so he could easily peer down in any direction.

_Number one priority, however, is always Setsuko-san, _he smirked. He placed the twins at the most southern point and her at the most northern. They were the three hugest troublemakers. If they wanted to sneak around, they would never make it past each of the Hosts — they were obstacles on their own.

Setsuko's room was directly next to his. He could monitor all her movements by the creaky floor board that was in front of his room (a security measure that he arranged with one of the butlers, ahead of time.) _Under no circumstances will I be letting her take any midnight adventures to Tamaki's room, Hunny's room, Hikaru and Kaoru's room and absolutely not Haruhi's room. She'll need permission just to get a drink of water._

He had her on the ultimate chain. He was pleased with this, even as she scowled when discovering that her bedroom was adjacent his.

They didn't spend much time in the house as the weather was much too perfect to waste. As soon as they could after getting changed, they departed down the long stairway to the sand.

There were a few people wandering up and down the beach, but not many, and all were comrades of the man who had lent the villa to Kyoya.

"Waaah! It's warm, it's warm!" Hunny cheered. "Let's go to the water!"

"Don't forget your floaters, Mitsukuni!" Mori chased after the bunny-like boy with yellow water wings.

"It is nice. Such a cool breeze, hmm, Haruhi-senpai," Setsuko who was now fully awake, was sauntering over to a nearby set of beach-chairs and umbrellas.

Haruhi smiled. She was wearing a tanktop and medium-length shorts. "Yes," she replied. "For once, it's nice to be able to wear girls clothes, since it's so hot."

"Kyoya," Tamaki murmured from behind him. "Do you think my Haruhi is a little too overexposed?"

"It doesn't matter. There's no need to hide her secret," he shrugged and plopped a beach bag next to a plastic reclining chair. "Nobody here knows the Host Club, after all."

"Argh, but that's not the point!"

Kyoya stared blankly. "Mmm. That isn't the point," he hummed absentmindedly. The _point _was that _Setsuko _wasn't overexposed. She still wore her sundress and floppy sunhat. Perfectly modest. He was once again content.

Letting himself fully enjoy the heat, the sand squashed beneath his feet and the sound of the frothing waves crashing against shore, he slid a pair of sunglasses on, spread himself out on a sun-soaked beach chair and decided to tan his bare legs and chest. He let his limp arm drag along the sand, feeling the friction of the grains brushing his skin.

It was a sublime opportunity to doze off and let the memories of the irritating and stressful drive be eroded by the waves and eventually disintegrate.

"Setsuko-chii! Haruhi! Come swim!" The sing-song voice of Hikaru beckoned from a great distance.

Kyoya's initial reaction was to ignore it, but against his better judgement, he opened his eyes and peered over his sunglasses.

The twins were wading in the sea, flailing their arms up in the air for the girls. The girls were sitting in chairs next to Kyoya, along with Tamaki (who had perked up as well).

"Let's go!" Setsuko nodded fervidly. "You're wearing a bathing suit, right?"

"H-haa..." Haruhi scratched at her arm.

"Good. Let's go swimming then," she said. Setsuko stood and shed the dress; she let it slide off the contours of her body to reveal a black bikini. Black. _Bikini_. It hugged her perfectly and accentuated in every way that she got her body from her birth-mother — blessed with the gift of an American heritage. Sizable breasts and hips.

She grinned. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

Tamaki blushed. The twins' eyes nearly popped out of their heads, but they blushed as well. Mori, as always, was expressionless, but Hunny began applauding and shouting about how beautiful she looked. "Ah. You look cute," Haruhi beamed, but did shift a gaze in Kyoya's direction.

"Really~?"

Kyoya was severely irritated. Irritated like never before. She blatantly ignored him. Blatantly disobeyed. As of late, he'd resolved with himself to pick his battles with Setsuko. He surely would _not_ win this one, so there was no point in arguing.

Still, the way that she was purposely drawing the attention of the male-goers at the beach made his blood boil. He was struggling with himself not to say anything.

He managed, somehow, to remain close-mouthed, even as she lackadaisically pranced across the sand to the water, and splashed around with the Hosts without caution or care. She was oblivious to the depraved eye lingerings of a couple of beach boys who nudged each other impishly, and waited until evening to pounce their pray.

* * *

><p>The afternoon had remained splendidly warm and sunny with docile waves. Around lunchtime, tensions were low as everybody clothed themselves and caught a bite at a sandy beach shack only two minutes down. Kyoya spotted Setsuko's eyes fixated on something behind him. When he discreetly snuck a glance, he noticed she was making eye contact with the duo of boys.<p>

She bit her lip. Kyoya squared his jaw.

_How many times have I seen them today?_

It was now 5:00 and the daylight was gradually fading into a deep blue; the clouds, marshmallowy smears across the burnt orange west as the sun began to fall over a watery horizon.

It was approximately dinner time and Kyoya was attempting to haul in his prune-fingered Hosts that were still playing around. "Kyoya! I have an even better idea!"

"What is it, Tamaki?"

"I would have expected you to be more observant," he stroked his chin. "Didn't you hear at that restaurant earlier? Some people are having a bonfire! Down there in that direction!" Tamaki pointed down the beach next to the diner they were in earlier, next to a flourishing forest that branched out far across the land. If Kyoya squinted, he could blearily make out a hunk of brown lumpy things, which he assumed was firewood.

The blonde man grinned. "Sounds fun, doesn't it? Should we go?"

"If you wish," he tinkered with his glasses. He then teased, in spite of himself, "The children should be up for it. Isn't that right, daddy?"

Tamaki paused, then chuckled. "You have quite a cruel humour, Kyoya."

"How so?"

He sighed blithely. "You insist on mocking me about things of the past. It's embarrassing on my part, ne?"

Kyoya didn't say anything else in response, just whistled piercingly to grab the attention of the Hosts. They paused in making their sandcastle to look over. He clapped his hands and said patronizingly, "Would you six like to go to a bonfire tonight? If so, please hurry, because it will be dark soon."

They seemed enthusiastic enough. They abandoned their castle immediately and retreated back to the beach chairs in frenzy to collect their clothes, twittering, twittering, twittering on about how wonderful the day was. They were soon joined by their king.

Once night fell, only about an hour later, the Host Club emerged from their villa in their same sandy day-clothes and could hear the noises becoming steadily louder. People were gathering already.

Through the darkness, a fire was coming alive in that pit of firewood Kyoya saw earlier. The smoke and ignited ashes were being blown upward, into the spangling sky. The sight only fueled his rowdy companions, "Let's go, let's go~!" Tamaki shouted, leading the army.

"Ne, what are you even supposed to do at these things?" Hikaru shrugged.

Kaoru hummed. "Saa~ Who knows? From the movies, I assume everybody's laughing."

"That's right, Kaoru!" Tamaki balled up his fists. "And the regular commoner activity to take part in, naturally, is marshmallow roasting! Isn't that exciting? That's why I took the liberty of bringing my own bag of marshmallows!"

"Tamaki-senpai, you didn't have to go _that _far," Haruhi droned. "But I guess for the first time, you're not entirely wrong."

Setsuko tittered. "You senpai haven't experienced anything fun." She stretched her arms out in front of her body and yawned. Kyoya was pleased to see that a modest woolen cardigan was pulled over her swimsuit and dress. "When you're at a bonfire, you're supposed to dance and drink hard liquor and hook up."

He tensed. "And none of the sort will be going on at _this _bonfire," Kyoya uttered bitterly under his breath.

It had not gone undetected. Setsuko's eyelid twitched.

At the fire, several people were already settled and feasting upon barbecued meats. Sunbathed and mosquito bitten people with boisterous voices and laughs. One man had an acoustic guitar on his knee and was playing light tunes that a couple of giggling girls were dancing around to with sloshing bottles of beer.

The suspicious looking boys were there, Kyoya noticed.

"Eh! This is really interesting!" Hunny marveled at the party-goers and addressed them cutely, "Sorry for the intrusion!"

The girls squealed and flocked to Hunny. "Welcome, high school boys!" One of the older girls laughed and invited them to sit on a few chairs set up around the fire.

They were served non-alcoholic drinks (much to Setsuko's dismay) and all joined in when the boy with the guitar began playing a familiar tune. Tamaki broke out his bag of marshmallows and, of course, burnt them all to a crisp ("Why isn't this working? Haruhi!") Setsuko and Hunny did a spontaneous dance routine to a Bon Jovi song while Mori watched carefully as they were close to open flame.

Kyoya just sat among the noise, secretly supervising. _Somebody has to make sure Tamaki doesn't kill himself._

The circle around the fire had begun telling stories of the legends of the forest that lay behind them. One of the men cackled evilly and stared directly at Tamaki. "They say the tortured spirit of a scorned woman, betrayed by her _murderous _husband lurks in those woods... right behind you."

"B-b-behind?" He slowly craned his neck backwards, only to see Kaoru with a flashlight held under his chin, pulling his bottom eyelids down his face to expose the squishy pink flesh beneath. Tamaki shrieked and shot 3 feet in the air.

Everybody burst into side-splitting guffaws and knee-slapping. "It's only a myth," Haruhi smirked. "There are no such things as _ghosts__._"

"B-but Nekozawa-senpai used to say-"

"She's right," one of the women said. "No ghosts in that forest, as far as we know. But there is a little lagoon. Nobody's really allowed to swim in the sea at nighttime so sometimes we venture out _there_ and do a little 'swimming'."

Several of the girls shared a private laugh. A couple men exchanged reminiscing glances. "Swimming?" Hunny tilted his head.

"Of course, we mean skinny-dipping."

"EH?" Tamaki's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Skinny dipping!" He softly murmured to himself about how he would never let Haruhi do something so outrageous.

Haruhi simpered. "I don't know. Skinny dipping sounds interesting."

"HA-HA-HA-HARUHI!"

Kyoya was enjoying the amusing presence of the people around him but, as always in social situations in which he was not obligated to be there, he felt sequestered from the festivities. His personality wasn't nearly as flamboyant as that of the party-goers, thus he was always detached—not that he was terribly distraught over the matter.

Instead, he gazed into the fire. He found himself slowly spacing out, being absentmindedly enraptured by the glowing embers and the untamed flames and sparks shooting up in every direction. He was staring, in a trance, for a long time before his eyes began to burn. He rubbed them fiercely and blinked around at the inky world around him.

All he noticed was that Mori and Hunny were now conversing, and Setsuko was not with them.

After a few seconds of repose, he noticed her wedged between those two boys. She was pulling out every trick in the book; twirling and tucking her hair, fingering at her dress, laughing loudly and dramatically. She was flirting.

He could faintly hear, "So, are we gonna ditch this or what? We could go have some fun," said one of the boys.

The other snaked his arm around Setsuko's shoulders. "We're staying with a friend about 5 minutes from here."

Without a moment of hesitation, Kyoya rose from his chair and strode confidently over to the three of them. Setsuko had a nasty look of realization when he arrived. "Excuse me, boys," he said and gently tugged her toward him.

"Ha?" One of the incredulous boys raised an eyebrow. "We were just talking. We haven't met, you are?"

Kyoya grinned devilishly. "Her boyfriend."

Setsuko opened her mouth to protest but Kyoya whisked her close to his body and began sweeping her in the opposite direction, with a grip like a vice around her wrists.

"Wait a sec, there, she doesn't seem all that keen on going with you," said the bolder of the two.

Kyoya calmy craned his neck backward and simpered. "Whether or not that is true, you would do good to keep your nose out of other people's business."

"Oy! You watch your mouth!"

They threatened with their beefy fists, advancing him. Setsuko yelled, "Stop it! Let go!"

The boy began to steam and shout after Kyoya, but, without a second glance, he lugged Setsuko away, creating a messy path with the sand they upturned with their drooping flip-flops.

Everybody who was peaceful at the campfire then turned their heads in shock, listening to the rampant cursing. Upon noticing Kyoya and Setsuko, the Hosts followed ("Oy, oy, where are you two going?" they cried) while Kyoya absentmindedly led them directly into the forest. _Just a quiet place... just get to a quiet place._

He wanted a tranquil, isolated area, perhaps to cool his head as he found it unbearably hot next to the open flames. _Perhaps that's the reason I'm worked up at the moment. _All the while, Setsuko was stumbling behind him and quietly griping.

They didn't stop marching for a short while; the forest floor was tarped with the dank discards off the trees, leaves and mosses and grasses. They delved quite deep into the tenebrous forest, to a point where soggy, enlarged tropical leaves swept their shoulders as they walked and the path had become almost indiscernible.

"Wait! K-Kyoya!" Tamaki called out. The Hosts had quickly fallen behind, as Kyoya realized he'd been walking at an accelerating pace, as he discovered was a habit of his. "What on Earth is going on?" He looked sharply between Kyoya and Setsuko.

"I'd like to know myself," she said as she jerked her wrist away. "I was having an innocent conversation with some new friends when you so _rudely _interrupted."

He felt the eyes of seven piercing into him. He sighed softly. "If they had any intention of being 'friends', I would not have had to take action."

Setsuko gaped, burning with indignation. She vapidly swiped hair out of her face and advanced Kyoya menacingly. "And, naturally, you don't believe that I can take care of myself?"

"Naturally, as your chaperone, it's my responsibility to ward off dangers such as those," he said.

"It seems we've gone a tad bit past 'warding off dangers'," Setsuko replied poisonously. "You're now dictating what I wear and who I talk to. This is borderline oppression."

He snorted. "Oppression? I should think that is overboard. It's time to drop the melodramatics."

The Hosts were once again uncomfortably trapped in an argument. Their eyes followed the speaker, back and forth, like a never-ending, agonizing tennis match. The pathetic sound of Haruhi trying to mediate (Please, guys, we're on a vacation!) was flooded by their retorts.

"Am I the one being dramatic? You act as a jealous boyfriend. Overreacting at tiny gestures," Setsuko, who rarely raised her voice, was on the verge of shouting. There was a dangerous quiver in her voice. "Are you some sort of prison guard? Am I not allowed to have a little fun?"

"Fun. Fun, by your definition, is something I'd like to avoid," Kyoya deadpanned. "_Your _definition of 'fun' could have grave consequences."

She raised her eyebrows. A blush blazed in her cheeks as she shifted glances in the Hosts' direction. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Do you have any objection? You are fully aware that your 'fun' is strictly prohibited by your father, and several other _higher_ powers."

Her blush deepened and she clenched her teeth. "Fun... meaning..." it seemed she came to a conclusion. "Do you think I'm not a virgin? Is that what you think? You thought I was going to have sex with those boys!" She exclaimed, absolutely livid.

Kyoya had always concluded that she was non-virginal. It seemed more than likely, what with her lusty swagger and ravenous eyes always wandering too far south. "You haven't given me any evidence against it."

Setsuko's breathing hitched and her body stiffened. "You don't believe I'm a virgin?"

"Not one bit."

Even as the words escaped his mouth, he could feel himself balancing precariously on the line bordering a forbidden topic. Setsuko seemed unresponsive at first, then she raised an eyebrow, as if challenging. _'You sure you want to say that?'_

Kyoya pursed his lips and uttered not a word more.

"Alright," she said. "I can understand your reasoning. Your deductions were plausible, as expected of Ootori Kyoya."

There was a dread hanging in the air but Kyoya had enough of the nonsense. He simply placed his hands on his hips and angled his head upward, "Glad we've cleared this up."

"You're right, it's excellent, I'm ecstatic. Now, it's all out in the open. I'm clearly a poster-child sex deviant who can't control her hormones and you are a self-important snob and a compulsive control freak."

Tamaki interjected at once, demanding that they both calm down.

"No, no," Kyoya's eyes stayed locked with hers. "She's made a statement and I am utterly intrigued by it. Would you do me the pleasure of explaining how you reached such a confident thesis?"

Even Haruhi's voice had grown louder, wracked with the nervousness of the situation. "You two stop taunting eachother!"

"Oh no, I would love to explain," Setsuko's sapphire eyes flickered with fury and something of a twisted, psychotic grin spread across her lips. "My own complex is self-explanatory. I would fuck anything that walks. And you, Kyoya-kun, are a brown-nosing puritan who is trying to dominate my life!"

"In what way, may I ask, am I trying to dominate your life?" He raised his voice and found the muscles in his body tensing.

She groaned and tossed her arms up in the air. "In what way, indeed. You dictate what I eat, who I speak to, where I go, how I dress and if you could, you would control every goddamn movement I make!"

"Oh, now isn't that modest of you," he scoffed. "Every moment of my life is centered around _you_."

Setsuko released a shrill laugh. "Oh please! I wish it wasn't! I'm chained to you constantly, you life-sucking ass-kisser!"

"It's my _job_, you egotistic little brat."

"No, it is _not _your job! You don't care about me! You are not my father!"

He snapped, "Trust me, the _last_ thing I want to be is your father."

A pregnant silence filled the air, the only noise being a high-pitched frequency in Kyoya's ear. Both of them were breathing laboriously and the Hosts stood, in shock.

There had been two things particularly surprising about what Kyoya had just said. The first being that he was yelling. It was uncommon for him to have a shift in emotion, let alone have an eruption. The second anomaly was the tone in his voice. Halfway through the statement, his anger collapsed momentarily into another indecipherable emotion.

It left eight people genuinely confused, himself included. However, his own confusion was overshadowed by his embarrassment. He swallowed and was about to engage in damage control when Setsuko spoke first.

"So, what then?" She sounded exhausted. "What do you want to be? You need to figure it the fuck out, because it's becoming tiresome for me to deal with these switches."

At that, Setsuko began to traipse off in a random direction, plowing through the overgrowth surrounding.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk. I need air."

"By yourself?"

Before there was a second explosion, Tamaki stumbled forth. "I'll accompany her! W-who knows? Perhaps we'll find that lagoon," he said sheepishly. The others, for once, were relieved by his runaway mouth. It was easing tension and restoring little normality.

"A-ah! We should all go look for that lagoon!" Hunny nodded. "We'll split up, if Setsu-chan wants."

Setsuko sighed in defeat. "Sure. Tamaki-senpai, if you'll come with me. We will be alone, though. I'll try not to sexually harass you."

Kyoya bristled at that last jab as he watched the two blondes tread through vegetation, blazing an unknown trail. He felt tight everywhere. 'What do you want to be? Figure it the fuck out'. He exhaled. _What a stupid question._

* * *

><p>She was purposely walking faster than he was, and darting in haphazard directions, indisputably getting them lost. Still, Tamaki, like the hopeless puppy he was, trailed along without a complaint. She could hear him lumbering behind her, staggering and tripping over all the greenery. They had ventured into a pit where the path had completely disappeared.<p>

Tamaki's endurance was admirable, but Setsuko could not bring herself to stop. She was furious and humiliated and a jumble of lousy, vomit-inducing emotions all at once. Tamaki, god bless his heart, would only aggravate the wound with his sprightly personality, she thought.

_I just can't wrap my mind around his, _Setsuko winced. _How could I make such an awful display in front of all those people?_

Even worse, she had been accused of sexual depravity in front of Haruhi. She felt disgusting; as if she _were _some corrupted demon as Kyoya painted her. The part that irritated her the most, however, was that it wasn't _entirely _false.

Setsuko had never had sex, but was not exactly the Virgin Mary. She had done other unspeakable acts—some with strangers, some with acquaintances. There had been times when she'd been on the edge; nearly committing the sacred act. However, she was heavily intoxicated, as was the man in her company. Every remaining virtuous fibre in her body fought against it. There was something heinously wrong with sleeping with some Paul, or David or Eric.

Still, those small values never stopped her from carrying out other offensive acts. All in the spirit of having experiences, as she planned. For that reason, despite her young age of fifteen going on sixteen, she could not regret.

At the same time, to feel exposed in that way was something she _hadn't _wished to experience as it made her feel like a pervert.

During the argument, she was so filled with an unusual surge of undiluted rage that her memory was blurry around the edges. She was desperately trying to conjure up the image of the Hosts. What were their facial expressions?

Setsuko nervously exhaled and increased her speed, brushing away sagging vines that dangled like gnarled snakes in front of her head. The forest was completely shrouded in darkness. It was eerily silent other than the rustling of Tamaki behind her. Still, no amount of terror of the forest could mask the robust essence of it; the smell was strong in her nostrils, like the scent of fresh-cut grass.

_God, I hope we really do find that lagoon. This place is creepier than I thought._

Her foot caught on a thin branch that had broken off from a tree, and with a shriek, she tumbled to the forest floor and dirtied her palms. This was the first time all evening that she realized the burning on her upper-body. _Crap. How long was I out in the sun?_

"Setsuko-chan, are you okay?" Tamaki rushed over and helped her stand again.

"Thank you, Tamaki-senpai. I'm perfectly okay," she said, but she was contradicting herself. She was unable to meet his eye.

He sighed. "I doubt that."

Setsuko gulped. She eased herself against a coarse tree trunk. Tamaki smiled. "The two of you are really quite interesting. I never would have guessed that you both could argue like that."

She grunted. "Interesting? That's an awful word to describe it," she said. "Kyoya is the most boring person I have ever met. Being shackled to him... it's like suffocation. And I'm scared... so scared... that my time is being drained too quickly by wasting it with him..."

The silence renewed itself for a few moments, before Tamaki began to snicker. She snapped her head toward him in alarm. "What in the world are you laughing about, Tamaki-senpai?"

"It's funny," he chuckled. "how the two of you have spent so much time together, yet you've got him all wrong."

"In what way?"

"Kyoya isn't boring," Tamaki said. "You've simply have yet to unleash his true spirit. You've come close — in fact, tonight, I'm almost certain that's the closest you've gotten. Whether it be negative or positive, of course, it's all for the best." He had a distant look on his face while he stroked his glossy blonde hair.

She hadn't known Tamaki to be cryptic in the slightest, so it was quite a shock as he spoke in riddles. She shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. With a cracked voice, she quietly urged him on, "I don't know what you mean."

The frenchman's face fixed into a gentle smile. "He's abnormal. He likes to pretend that he's cold; that he only hunts for the benefits in a situation, and doesn't care for anybody. Sometimes that's true... but Kyoya has a lot more room in his heart for things other than money and his father."

"Heart? I was under the impression that he had none."

"It's there," he said. He didn't seem an ounce bothered by Setsuko's sour attitude. "If you pay attention, there are tiny bits of proof every now and then. Like when he's happy. You've probably seen him happy at least once... that's the strangest thing about him; you know, he's happiest when he's angry?"

Setsuko flat mouth twitched as it battled back a smile. "What do you mean?"

Tamaki burst into a laughing fit and something told her he had recovered memories of Kyoya. "When's he fired up. When he's faced with a challenge that even he can't overcome is when his life is most fulfilling. It's bizarre but for that reason, I was so excited when I heard about you."

"Excited?"

"Kyoya was in somewhat drought before you. There were no challenges in his life," he said. "Suddenly, over spring break, I noticed he was acting differently. His mind was always wandering and sometimes I even caught his fists clenching. You must have been driving him up the wall! Then, after the first time you walked into the Host Club like a one-woman parade, I was relieved. You were going to be the twist in his life."

"The twist," she scoffed incredulously. "Impossible. He... Kyoya-kun doesn't care for me."

"That's wrong," Tamaki wagged a finger in her face. "To a degree, he cares... if I had to say... perhaps like... a papa penguin!" He seemed delighted with his metaphor. "Yes! Like how a papa penguin will hold it's unhatched egg beneath his belly for four months during the cold when there's no sun. Nurturing the egg so that when it hatches, the baby bird will be beautiful and healthy."

Setsuko found this the most preposterous thing she's heard in a while. "You're saying he cares for me like a father? Or that he thinks I'm an egg?"

"Kyoya wants to protect you until you're a woman. Until you're fully mature and he can feel comfortable that you'll take care of yourself," he said. "That's what I think. Hopefully, during this arrangement, he'll see that you're already a woman."

She blinked at him. Tamaki's eyes were piercing directly through her; he was attempting to send her a telepathic message, clearly. Setsuko let a faint smile grace her lips. "I presume you were hopeful of a relationship to bloom out of the arrangement?"

The blonde smirked. "Ahaa ~ maybe!"

"Keep dreaming," she teased. "I'm infatuated with somebody else."

Tamaki's jaw dropped and he appeared like a wounded woodland creature, pouting and whimpering. "But-!"

"No~way." Setsuko could no longer stifle her laughter. The King naturally held a lighthearted aura. All the fury and the embarrassment was demolished by his sparkling grin.

Still, there was a question that she had been yearning to ask. Setsuko began to walk again, a few paces away from him. She halted at a bush from which lovely fuchsia blossoms sprouted.

"Ne, Tamaki-senpai?"

"Yes?"

"Are you in love with Haruhi-senpai?"

She half-expected him to splutter like flustered camel and be ridiculous in all respects, as he always did. But instead, there was a thoughtful pause and he chuckled humourlessly. "Yes. I am."

The impact of the impending answer stuck her in the chest. She struggled to keep her breathing steady. "I see," she inhaled. After a long while, she said with a shudder, "Isn't it scary...? I mean... aren't you scared?"

"Completely." _Without hesitation. _"Completely... terrified." _Without shame__. _"It's terrifying to think about how in one second, I could lose it all. In fact, I used to... be a terrible coward when it came down to it. Hiding behind a make-believe family because I was so scared of losing. But now," _Please don't. _"I won't hide anymore," _Don't make me like you. _"because I love her so much," _because I'll just... _"I'm willing to risk it."

_... end up hating myself._

* * *

><p>How he found himself standing outside her bedroom door, he'll never know.<p>

They _had _found the lagoon. Oh yes, they had. He and the Hosts aside from Tamaki and Setsuko were aimlessly marching through the forest when they heard distant screams through the thickets. When they eventually found the source, they discovered it had been Tamaki and Setsuko who had unknowingly stumbled upon it and had fallen into the steaming water.

All strain seemed to have eased and everybody else jumped in after them, swimming and splashing in the lagoon, assembled once again as a family.

Afterwards, they went flopping back absolutely drenched. Kyoya noticed that he and Setsuko still made no eye-contact. It was infuriating, but he wasn't too keen on speaking with her either.

But now, swallowing all his pride, he was standing before her bedroom door with a bottle in his hand. Out of courtesy that they usually didn't bother with, he knocked.

From inside, Setsuko moaned. "Come in."

When he allowed himself in, he saw a bustling lump under the covers. He assumed it was her. Before he could say a word, she groaned, "Why are you in here?"

"I heard you wailing in the shower."

She went rigid.

"Show me," he said.

"...Don't laugh."

"I won't."

Setsuko sat and removed her flannel pajama top (luckily, she wore a white camisole beneath) to reveal that her arms, chest and back was a painful lobster red. Bulbs of tears sat in her bottom eyelids as she refused to meet his eye. "It hurts."

Kyoya resisted all urges to laugh or scold (he wasn't precisely sure what he wanted to do) but resolved to shaking his head. He propped the bottle up on his hand to reveal the label; extra-strength moisturizing aloe vera. Specifically for sunburns. He sat on the bed and lubed up his hands. "If I may have permission."

She shuffled closer and allowed him to rub the cold gel on her arms. She shivered and continued bracing herself as he applied to all the burns. "You're so careless. Somehow, all afternoon, I was thinking to myself that I should remind you to apply sunscreen."

Another shudder ran through her body as he pressed a handful of the icy ointment to her back. "Is that so," she retorted frigidly. "You must forgive me if I find reason to doubt that. After all, you've dropped the pretense that you care about me, have you not?"

They stirred in silence for a long while before Kyoya finally mustered up the reply, with his eyes locked determinedly on a particularly painful-looking patch of raw sunburn on her shoulder. "I don't believe this has arisen in conversation before," he said "but it's quite likely that I've shared more meals with you in the past two months than I have shared with my father in an entire year."

A tension settled into the air as Kyoya became awfully aware that he was uncomfortable (which was an extremely rare and strange occurrence, considering his activities in the Host Club) and also largely aware that she was listening intently.

"What I mean to say is that we've spent a considerably amount of time together. And due to the human phenomena of unexplained emotions and the enigma of the brain's inner-workings, it is only natural that I've developed somewhat of an attachment to you. Consistent with that phenomena, I've also developed attachments for Tamaki and—"

"Kyoya-kun."

He came to an abrupt stop. Setsuko had rotated her entire body to stare at him with softened expression. "Is this a love confession?"

"Nothing of the sort."

She grinned her toothy, vulpine grin. "Hmm. So what you're trying to tell me is that you care."

Kyoya gave no worded response, just bowed his head as confirmation. However small the gesture, he noticed that Setsuko was delirious with excitement, in her own characteristically vague manner. She cooed with her linked fingers pressed over her heart; her cheeks were rosy from smiling continuously.

"Eh~! What wonderful progress. You've finally admitted to possessing human emotions," she said. "Tell me, Kyoya-kun. How do you care?"

With abundant regret at bringing up the conversation, he sighed. "I'm not sure I follow."

"_How_? Tamaki-senpai loves Haruhi like a lover, Hunny loves her like a sister, while Mori loves Hunny like a brother," Setsuko explained very matter-of-factly. "How would you define your affection toward me?"

Kyoya hummed distractedly before replying, "Perhaps... like a pet fish. Or a potted-plant. A ficus."

She deflated considerably upon hearing this. "Ne, _ne_! That isn't fair. Answer me seriously."

"Not a ficus?" He raised an eyebrow. "A favorite pair of socks, then."

Setsuko pouted then replaced her pajama top, then sagged leisurely onto the bed, wriggling back beneath the tangle of blankets, appearing once again as nothing but an enormous heap of material.

"You're terrible, Kyoya-kun."

The dark-haired boy granted himself only the tiniest smile before meandering back out of the room. "Goodnight."

* * *

><p>She watched him stride out, looking remarkably unlike himself. Heavy-footed and slow-moving he was as he rambled across the floor, unlike his usual march, that was so brimming with his own narcissism (as well as the overbearing atmosphere of astute brilliance that radiated from him), that it seemed much like a strut. However, he didn't seem as purposeful as he left her room that night.<p>

Regardless, Setsuko nuzzled into the cushiony mattress and relaxed her exhausted muscles.

Then, the phone on her bedside table began to ring. With only half her wits about her, she picked up the reciever.

"Hello?" She stifled a yawn.

"Hey, honey."

A tremor of pure terror vibrated through Setsuko's body. Her breath quivered. "... H-... how did you get this number...?"


	11. Something Other

A/N: Thanks to those who read/reviewed/favorited the story! The last chapter was extremely long. 9100 words, approximately. I was considering bisecting the chapter into two, but I suppose there's no need :) Thank you, everybody, and please enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: Something Other<p>

"It wasn't difficult," they said. "Somebody at the Ootori mansion has a slippery tongue."

Setsuko trembled. "Liar. That isn't all, is it? You have _him _following me, don't you...?"

There was a length of time in which she could only hear the dull buzzing of white noise in the receiver. Then, "Not _him_ personally. He hates Japan."

"J-Jesus..." gasped Setsuko. She picked tirelessly at her fingernails to distract herself — to calm herself. Still, she did not hang up the phone. There was a soothing quality to that voice and she hadn't noticed how much she'd missed it.

"I'm only making sure you're alright. I'm afraid for you over there."

"I... I know."

* * *

><p>When she awoke the next morning, much earlier than the others, she was laden with the disturbing memories of the previous night, and the phone conversation she'd had. They hadn't been drunk, which she was grateful for, but it was perplexing, indeed, how they had gotten the phone number of the beach villa.<p>

She spent the dark portion of the morning puzzling over it, and around sunrise, between brushing her teeth and changing out of her nightclothes, she realized with a sickening lurch in her stomach, that she was diminishing once more into the same slave to anxiety as she had been for the past 7 months. She had passed the telephone several times and watched the immobile object with a mounting eagerness.

This caused the rest of her morning to become turbulent as she _forced _herself to avoid the telephone, avoid the door, avoid the windows, and soon enough, she was marching around the room, disorganizing things in frustration, tearing clothes out of her suitcase and launching them across the room.

But eventually, she ended up staring at the telephone _again. _When she noticed she had been, she fearfully tore her eyes away.

She felt as she did before destroying her cellphone — the hollow spaces in her mind filled by her anticipating and anticipating and anticipating.

Anticipating phone calls at 2:00 in the morning, 3:00 in the morning, 4:00. Soon enough, all unoccupied seconds of her life would be conquered by the anticipation.

She knew, though, that the moment that happened, was the moment that the anticipation would devour every other second as well. The constant waiting would drain her of mind and body until she became an enervated skeleton, destitute of emotion; of life.

Setsuko knew this would be her future if she couldn't walk away from the telephone.

She massaged her temples. _Just an energy sucker. A cold-blooded consumer... I just have to walk away._

The Hosts were beginning to rise and cause noise. It was 9:00 in the morning and Setsuko rummaged through the mess she created on the bedroom floor (which appeared more like a disaster-zone at that point) and managed to find a pair of cargo shorts and a frilly white shirt that would cloak her sunburns, for the most part.

When the majority of the Hosts had awoken, she entered the dining room where they were being served a breakfast of oatmeal and pancakes. The aroma of the melty, buttery cake drowned in syrup was powerful enough to exorcise her troubles briefly.

"Good morning," she called in an attempt to feign cheerfulness.

"Good _mor_ning, Setsuko-chan!" Tamaki waved his splayed fingers up in the air.

Kyoya was sitting at the end of the table, and he politely dabbed his napkin to his lips. "I assume you slept well."

"Of course!"

Hunny and Mori were absent from the table; evidently, Hunny was much like Kyoya in the sense that he did not like to be woken up.

Hikaru and Kaoru shuffled grudgingly into the room, baggy-eyed and sluggish. "That makes _one _of us," Hikaru sneered. "His highness jumped on our bed to wake us up half an hour ago."

Kaoru yawned and passed a dirty look to a cheeky Tamaki.

Setsuko noticed that Haruhi was there too, passively smearing marmalade onto a piece of bread and not appearing very energized either. For once, Setsuko wasn't so enthusiastic about chatting her up. Her conversation with Tamaki the night prior also haunted her and made it impossible to look at Haruhi and not feel the hopelessness of the situation. _If he's so certain that he loves her, why doesn't he just ask her to be his freakin' girlfriend already? _she thought bitterly. _She would say yes..._

She slumped into a chair adjacent Kyoya's and quietly nibbled on a maple syrup soaked pancake. Her appetite had died.

It was only five minutes before Haruhi spoke to her, "Setsuko-chan?"

Startled, Setsuko looked up from her plate in bewilderment. She had taken to dissecting orange wedges with the dull edge of a butter knife and thinking... "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem distracted."

It was only then that she realized that she had been thinking about the telephone. She felt unable to string together words suddenly, and became abruptly aware of the Hosts ogling her curiously.

_It's consuming the empty spaces already, _she thought. "It's nothing."

Unconvinced, Haruhi fixed her eyes on Setsuko. "Is there something we can do?"

Setsuko paused, brows knitted. Then, without any expression, she leaned forth on the table. "Maybe."

"What is it?"

"Go on a date with me, Haruhi-senpai."

The entire table seemed to simultaneously stop chewing and set their goggling eyes on her. Her lips were set in a flat line and her eyebrows neither raised, nor lowered, and Setsuko gave no indication of whether or not she was serious. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure herself. While her intentions with Haruhi were romantic either way, the fact was that this morning, she was in a particularly foul mood and was solely expressing a musing — a half-joke, really. She expected to be rejected, of course.

"Alright."

Setsuko froze, slack-jawed and baffled. She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, searching for any traces of humour on Haruhi's face. "You want to go on a date?"

Haruhi mirrored Setsuko's lack of expression. "You asked me, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said. "I suppose I did."

Tamaki blustered incredulously for quite sometime and gaped at Haruhi, appalled. However, it seemed she didn't notice him. Haruhi remained steely-faced toward Setsuko, before finally cracking a close-mouthed grin. "Then, we have a date."

Setsuko wasn't certain on how to properly react to the unforeseen circumstance. At the time, and all morning as well, her brain wasn't thoroughly processing any information, like a glitchy computer, making her a tad slow on the uptake. Although it _was_ Haruhi that had just accepted a date, there were no immediate explosions of excitement as she imagined there would be.

Instead, she was feeling quite apathetic and, for the life of her, couldn't recall how to smile naturally. All the same, the eyes of the hosts, from Tamaki's disbelieving eyes to the twins' foxy, amber eyes to Kyoya's dubious ones, were drilling into her. She squared her jaw and returned to them all a vacant gaze before wrinkling her napkin and rising from her chair.

"In the afternoon, then, Haruhi-senpai." Setsuko finally managed a smile. "It'll be a fun day, right?"

"Hopefully."

"My, my ~! Haruhi-senpai doesn't seem to invest very much faith in me. Don't you know all afternoons with me are a good time?"

Haruhi bore no reaction. She merely popped a sliced peach in her mouth and chewed placidly. Setsuko strode out of the room and could hear the soft pattering of footfalls behind her as she retreated to her bedroom.

Kyoya had trailed her and was now leaning against the bedroom door. His meticulous eyes scoured the room, examining the clutter.

"I see you've had a rough morning."

"No need to be snarky," she said.

"I assure you, that is not my intention," he replied, giving a glance of disapproval at the mess. "I've only come to—"

The telephone interrupted him. Setsuko had the urge to leap for it, but restrained herself. Kyoya stared. "Aren't you going to answer?"

Setsuko gave a sheepish grin and staggered over to the phone, as she felt as though her legs had the consistency of jello. She picked up the receiver. As she said, "Hello," she tried to fabricate a chirpy voice, but it came across as strange and hysterical.

Over the phone, she heard the throaty voice. "Hi. Are you busy?"

"Yes."

She hung up.

Kyoya raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Quite the brief conversation."

"Indeed. The wrong number."

He looked disbelieving, but to her relief, chose not to investigate. He prodded a pair of jean shorts with his foot and glowered. "Honestly, at least have the decency to clean your messes." Kyoya seemed to have lost his train of thought, and he stalked out of the room, but not before giving a heedful glance over his shoulder at the nightstand where the telephone sat.

Setsuko considered trashing the telephone, despite it being public property. It was a solid, sure-fire method, other than the awkward inquiry that would subsequently take place.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to think about Haruhi instead.

The fact that she was about to spend the afternoon with her had slipped her mind. She listlessly scanned the room and sighed. For precisely 23 minutes, she lazed about on the mattress, wondering if she even had enough energy for a date.

After much deliberation, she realized that it wasn't the date or Haruhi that was making her feel so half-hearted — it was simply her grim morning. It then became apparent as to why she had proposed the date. A fraction of her subconscious was crying out for help; she wanted to be cheered.

_And what better way to cheer myself up than with Haruhi? _Setsuko laughed to herself as she began to dress in a caramel-coloured tunic dress, brainstorming ideas on where to take Haruhi for lunch.

* * *

><p>There was a quiet town that was a short drive away from the villa. There were no skyscrapers or towering apartment buildings; instead the buildings were rather short and stocky, opening up the immeasurable sky above that was seasonally bright blue and cloudless. The cobbled streets were baking like hotcakes in the intense afternoon sun.<p>

There weren't many houses, rather there were a large number of small establishments that entertained the tourists who visited the beach. There were a number of clothing boutiques and beverage shops. There was also a movie theatre and a bowling alley that attracted flocks of young people.

The Hosts squatted painfully behind the hydrangea bushes. The two girls were sitting in a cafe, sipping iced cappuccinos under a rather large, olive-green and white pinwheel umbrella. Setsuko muttered something that made Haruhi snicker.

Kyoya could practically hear Tamaki hissing like a steam engine. He glared at him. This was _his _fault. There he was, on a perfectly splendid spring afternoon at a vacation destination, sweating and compressed between Tamaki and Hikaru, hunched behind a bug-infested bush. All for the purpose of spying.

At around noon, Tamaki announced to the male population of the Hosts that they would be going on an 'excursion'. When Kyoya pointed out, frustrated, that they were already on one, Tamaki ignored him and declared that they would be spying on Setsuko and Haruhi's date.

Needless to say, Kyoya was beyond pissed.

He had more important affairs to tend to that afternoon, and scrunched up behind a shrub was not the ideal venue to deal with such. Moreover, unlike the other Hosts, he had little interest in eavesdropping on the girls.

Instead, he was awaiting a phone call.

Earlier, after leaving Setsuko's room, he phoned one of the Ootori family private investigators.

_"Tachibana-san, it's Kyoya."_

_"Yes, Kyoya-san," Tachibana said. "Is there something I can help you with."_

_Kyoya readjusted his grip on the cellphone, peering out of the doorway to ensure that nobody was listening. "Indeed. I'm currently vacationing at Nakamura's beach suite. I would like you to check the phone activity in the past 24 hours, as well as that of the Ootori mainhouse, as far back as it goes. Check for any similarities or unknown numbers. Report back."_

_"The Ootori mainhouse? Is that not-"_

_"Confidential? Correct, Tachibana-san."_

_There was a pause before, "I'll report back after I've tapped into the records," he replied attentively._

_"Thank you, Tachibana-san."_

Every so often, Kyoya would have mini-hallucinations, where he thought his phone was vibrating, but he had not been called yet. He felt that his patience had already been worn thin and that if Tachibana didn't phone soon, he would explode. Furthermore, he was extremely uncomfortable. He shifted on the spot, his shoe soles scraping against the cobblestone sidewalk. Tamaki's weight was pressing against him.

With a vengeance, Kyoya jabbed him in the ribs and Tamaki yelped, looking affronted. "Mou~! Be helpful! This is important — my Haruhi and your Setsuko are on a date. We must be vigilant."

Kyoya, quite incensed, scoffed. "_Whose _Setsuko? Forgive me, Tamaki, but I'm quite fed up with your capriciousness, and all the pointless antics that come with it."

Just as a wounded Tamaki was about to retort, Hunny tugged on his shirt. "Tama-chan, Tama-chan! They're moving!"

"Right!" He clenched a fist. "Pursue them, boys!"

"Roger, boss!" The twins chorused, trailing swiftly behind Haruhi and Setsuko who were trotting off to a street vendor selling leather jewelry.

With lost hopes of returning to the peacefulness from the beach villa, Kyoya followed-suit.

It was another fifteen minutes of monotonous nonsense (consisting of only Setsuko and Haruhi rambling around the street and Tamaki raving like a nut) before Tachibana phoned Kyoya.

* * *

><p>"We should see a movie."<p>

Setsuko raised her head, giving a half-lidded gaze. She gave a noncommittal 'hnn' before resting her eyes once more on the cobblestone. It seemed that the date had been dull, despite Haruhi's earnest attempts to keep Setsuko's attention.

She knew she would be kicking herself later, but Setsuko found that she could barely summon enough energy in her system to heave a sigh, let alone have a conversation. The only conversations they _had _had had been stunted and normally ended with Setsuko tapering off into silence. Although, she did have enough energy to make a few snarky comments toward Haruhi, like, "This is a date, we should be holding hands," or "We'll get lunch _if _you kiss me."

None of these claims were quite serious, but rather challenges.

Haruhi had had the gall to accept a date. Setsuko was piqued — just _how _far could she go?

It _did _cheer her up slightly, to see Haruhi's vaguely frustrated face. She would never comply, only reply, "Is that so? You're sounding more and more like Tamaki-senpai everyday."

So far, on their date, they had taken many walks, drank at a cafe and window-shopped. In a small way, Setsuko was grateful for Haruhi's small presence. She didn't speak when not necessary, but provided a mellow atmosphere. Setsuko had stared several times throughout the date, digesting Haruhi's features... the lips, the teeth, the point of her nose...

"Did you hear me, Setsuko-chan? We should go see a movie."

She didn't have the energy to protest. "Suuure~" she drawled. "You're suggesting it because it's in the dark, right~? We could have fun."

"I didn't think of such a thing," Haruhi said cooly.

Setsuko smirked. "Yes, yes, yes, you're a _saint_, I must say, I _forgot_."

The two of them tread down the street to where they knew a small cinema was, a few blocks away. It seemed to be a revival theatre, for they were only playing movies that were decades beyond their time.

They arbitrarily chose a movie, bought some popcorn and seated themselves unceremoniously in the sea of purple velvet seats.

The movie hadn't yet started and they were left to stew with the staticy commercials rolling over the enormous screen. The theatre was deserted. This caused it to be relatively quiet. Setsuko was tempted to just close her eyes and imagine herself into nothing.

_I wonder if this is what depression feels like... _she wondered acridly. What constituted 'depression'? It was an hour past noon, and she was already feeling wasted; lifeless. She should have been elated to be on a date, but her senses were barely reacting. Was that depression?

"Setsuko-chan."

She cleared her throat. "Yes, Haruhi-senpai?"

"You've noticed those guys there awhile ago, right?"

"Of course."

The two of them snuck a secretive glance at the Hosts who were hunkered down behind a row of seats, two rows above. They could spot the rounded curves of their backs. Haruhi blinked, then gave an appreciative smile. "I see! Then, in that case, I'm quite proud of you."

"Why is that?"

"I would have thought you would done something flashy and ridiculous to make Tamaki-senpai jealous. You haven't."

Setsuko swallowed. _So, I haven't been acting normal. _She avoided Haruhi's gaze and twisted strangely in her chair to find a comfortable position, but for the life of her, could not do so. When she didn't respond, Haruhi raised her voice.

"Setsuko-chan. Please."

The blonde forced a smiley veneer. "Please what? You're acting really strangely, Haruhi-senpai~!"

Haruhi suddenly looked quite sullen. She clamped her hands on Setsuko's wrists and squeezed. "Honestly! You're as bad as Kyoya-senpai when it comes to putting up guises! I only accepted this date because I could see that you were feeling ill this morning. You weren't yourself and so I thought... this would cheer you up."

"But if you keep bottling things up and pretending to be okay, nobody will know how to help you!" her voice had risen so much, that it cracked and faltered. She gulped a large gust of air. "You have to trust_somebody_! If you can't, then it's hopeless for you! So, if nobody else, you can tell me! That's what friends are for... Setsuko-chan! "

The lights dimmed around them. The movie was beginning, with the orchestral introduction swelling and absorbing anything that might have been said. However, Setsuko could not find any words at the moment. She simply stared blankly, like a blinkered idiot.

The music quieted and allowed her to get a firm grip on her thoughts which, at the moment, were as slippery as oil, barely intact.

After a moment of thought, the words arose as easily as breath, and she said them without reluctance or nervousness — the same way she imagined Tamaki would say it. "Haruhi-senpai."

"Yes?"

"I like you."

The music intensified once more, then shrunk almost instantly. Haruhi grinned and released Setsuko's wrists, instead, lightly grasping her hand. The flame behind her eyes dwindled and she remained looking exasperated, but relieved. "Thank you... I'm really happy."

"Haruhi-senpai," she said. "Stay still... just for one second."

Haruhi obeyed, freezing in position. Setsuko leaned in, closer and closer to her face... but their lips never did touch.

Somebody had pried them apart and seized Haruhi gruffly by the hand. Without shock, Setsuko glanced up at Tamaki, whose face was scrunched up in anger. For a few long seconds during which only the croaking conversation from the movie dragged out, everybody was still.

Tamaki stormed in the opposite direction from Setsuko, hauling Haruhi by the hand ("Oy, Tamaki-senpai, stop it!"). Setsuko fixed upon the couple — Tamaki, resolute and Haruhi, helplessly stumbling behind him — until they rounded the corner and vanished.

It went as planned. He arrived like a knight in shining armor at the precise moment and rescued his princess. That was what she intended and she even paused for a moment to admire her own brilliant match-making skills...

_Even though I forfeited her__..._

In one poignant instant, it hammered into her. It all came thundering down on her like an avalanche, and she wanted nothing more than to paint her pain in reality; she wanted to cry or tear something in half or rupture the floor beneath her feet, just to have tangible proof of her mounting emotion.

After all, emotions meant that she wasn't depressed after all...

After disregarding all of her longings, she turned away from where she had seen Tamaki and Haruhi leave, and watched the movie screen instead, drawing her knees up to her chest and snaking her arms around herself. _I don't even know what this movie is about..._

Kyoya eased himself down beside her and drummed his fingernails idly on the armrest. Setsuko hugged herself tighter.

"You're holding together quite nicely, aren't you?"

She didn't dare look at him. "Aren't I? You'd never know it my first time getting rejected, hmm? I'm simply outstanding~."

Hunny whispered something from behind them and the Hosts had begun to file out wordlessly, although she spotted Kaoru sending her a pitying glance.

Setsuko was divided with herself, torn between wanting Kyoya to comfort her and simply wanting to melt away. "Everybody left. From what I've observed of female behavior, I believe this is when you cry."

"No-ope. I don't cry over love. Not again."

"You have, then. Before?"

She inhaled deeply and revived her memories of the last time she shed tears for love. Suddenly, the misery of the moment seemed less sharp — rather, now it was but a heavy ache. Setsuko began picking tirelessly at the cotton emerging from a fissure in her seat where the velvet had torn and unraveled. "Ah. It was so long ago... still, neither that loss nor this one is comparable to a worst-case scenario. Honestly, they're nothing to cry about..."

Kyoya shuffled in his seat and loomed over her. Setsuko could smell his cologne. "Alright. You won't cry, then."

She drew her knees in closer. "Yeah... yeah, that's right..." she murmured shakily. "Even if... even if it hurts a little bit."

"Even so," he said. "Even so you won't cry."

There was strength in his voice; strength in his hand that he placed on the top of her head, rumpling her golden hair. When he insisted that she wouldn't cry with such concrete certainty, she felt that, in a small way, his strength could substitute for her lack of. She felt that his strength could fill the chasm from which hers had been stolen and devoured by telephone calls.

And she did not cry.

When he took his hand back, Setsuko looked to Kyoya, whose expression was as empty as her own. "Nee-ee~ boring glasses guy," she said with an exaggerated sniffle. "Why _have _you been following Haruhi and I around on a date? _Jealous_?"

"Absolutely not," Kyoya tinkered with the frames of his glasses and smoothed a hand across his sleek hairline. "I am a victim of Tamaki's shenanigans. However, this circumstance has given me an advantageous position."

"Hmm? And what is this position?"

"Our isolation from the Hosts is quite an opportune moment to, perhaps, remind you of a certain 'David Scott'?"

"Who?"

Kyoya's eyes flickered with delight for a second, then a shrewd simper curved in his lips. Setsuko had realized, gravely, that she had made a mistake. Her face heated and she made a tangle of incomprehensible syllables under her breath, trying to think of a cover-up.

But he just grinned.

* * *

><p><em>Weird guy... Tamaki-senpai...<em>

Tamaki managed to drag her out of the cineplex entirely before she wrenched her wrists out of his grip.

"Tamaki-senpai! What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, breathlessly.

Haruhi saw that Tamaki certainly looked unusual. His blonde hair was tousled in a manner that he would normally never permit. Instead of pouting like a whimpering, moist-eyed puppy, his mouth was in a tense line; his brows furrowed.

She had a creeping suspicion she knew what he was angry about. When it came to Haruhi, Tamaki was jealous and possessive and over-protective. She understood that it was due to some bizarre affection he held for her; it had become quite blurry now, whether he loved her as a father or something other.

It was irksome for Haruhi. Her relationship with Tamaki had gone from irritating to disturbing to confusing since the day she walked into the Third Music Room.

It didn't help the situation that recently, or maybe not _so _recently (she couldn't decide) she discovered that she herself had fallen for the King.

"Ta-ma-ki-senpai! Answer me!"

"What did you think _you _were doing?" the frenchman finally exploded back. "Did you expect to take responsibility for what you were doing?"

Haruhi was taken aback by this rare fury. "H-haa? Take responsibili-"

"Take responsibility! You can't let a young girl, a freshman, treat you as a lover, and never reciprocate!" he retorted darkly. "That's cruelty!"

As much as she wished to tell him he was being ridiculous, she could not. "That's besides the point! I knew what I was doing. Moreover, if I'm the one you're mad at, you shouldn't have intruded like that," she maintained a strict voice. "You didn't have to be so rude to Setsuko-chan!"

"Who's rude to Setsuko-chan?" Tamaki scoffed incredulously. "Unless you really do love her..."

"It's not about that!"

"I understand! You were only trying to help — but you didn't need to go so far," he said.

She crossed her arms in determination. "It would have made things better!"

"No. You already made her better today, without going to that extent! Instead... letting her confess... and telling her you were happy... that was all you needed to do! You helped a lot today. Haruhi."

His soothing words were enough to quell her rage for the moment. She had expected more scolding, not a compliment. She blinked back stupidly.

"The problem is," he chuckled dryly into the back of his hand, but his steely eyes never softened. "Haruhi is too kind... you only wanted to make her feel better. Right?"

Haruhi's stubbornness got the better of her and she willed herself not to fall into Tamaki's trap. She scowled. "It would have worked if you didn't burst in."

He chuckled again. "I apologize for my rudeness toward Setsuko-chan, but not for bursting in."

"Apologize."

"No, I don't think I will."

"Aren't you pushing it a little, Tamaki-senpai?"

Tamaki gave a crooked kind of smile. _What's with this guy? _Somehow, his lustrous hair had returned to it's original shape, and with his glowing violet eyes no longer bulging with rage, Tamaki regained his regal appearance. He gave a graceful twirl of the hand before placing it on Haruhi's cheek. "I won't ever regret interrupting."

_This again...? _Haruhi chewed the inside of her cheek. "Mou, what kind of weird thing are you talking about now?"

"Of course... I'm only musing," he muttered, it seemed, to nobody in particular. "But I've always thought that the next one would be _me_."

Haruhi kissed her teeth. "... You're talking about some perverted thing again, aren't you?"

He laughed, "Ahh, probably."

"That's what I thought," she said. "As expected of Tamaki-senpai."

"Yes... I would do something like that, wouldn't I?"

In the next instant, she felt a silky something press against her forehead, and realized only when it was over that Tamaki had kissed her. He gave a timid sort of smile. She blushed furiously.

"Ta-Tamaki-senpai... you..."

He busted into a peculiar sort of laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. "Ahaha, we shouldn't be dawdling out here! Let's get the others!"

"Ahh," Haruhi mumbled awkwardly but smiled, trying to vanquish the discomfort. But she knew she didn't need to. Tamaki could always bounce back up if he ever fell. Always. "Let's go."


	12. The Velveteen Rabbit

A/N: Thank you for the active support from everybody who's been reading! You're motivation in these difficult times - my exams are coming up in January! I hope I'm not alone in saying that I'm completely unprepared...

PS.

I edited the last chapter. The scene with Tamaki and Haruhi is almost restored to it's original form in which Tamaki confesses. Still no confession. Not yet.

* * *

><p>Chapter 11: The Velveteen Rabbit<p>

**She has been avoiding me, as I predicted would happen. It's fairly obvious that Setsuko-san is well aware of what I know. The question is — of what importance _is _my information? Why has she gone to such lengths to avoid speaking of David Scott? I am finding it difficult to rid myself of the notion that one day, her negligence of disposing _everything_ to me will soon become highly consequential.**

The rest of the trip went relatively smoothly.

More accurately, the Hosts didn't think an innocent beach vacation could endure any more drama than what had already been had, so they avoided all possible arguments.

Frankly, Kyoya was eager to be heading home.

The remainder of the trip, after having spoken to Tachibana on several other accounts, that is, had been spent lounging about on beach chairs and inflatable plastic rafts that drifted on the rippling waves. While that may have been satisfying in any other situation, Kyoya found that he was becoming restless, fraught with information and tired of containing it.

However, there were far too many witnesses to speak with Setsuko about such things.

Not to mention that she had been making poor excuses to never be alone with him. Kyoya detected her uneasiness since he mentioned David Scott and noticed her strenuous efforts to avoid him.

He knew he would have to remain quiet for the moment.

But it was damn near bubbling over.

They left on the last afternoon of the long weekend, packing their suitcases grudgingly and taking the overlong journey back to Tokyo.

It was generally uneventful, aside from the seating arrangements. Hunny, Mori and Hikaru and Kaoru silently regarded that Setsuko and Kyoya sat next to eachother — Setsuko animatedly narrated Kyoya's novel, which caused him to look quite sour — and Tamaki and Haruhi sat together in near silence.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at home around evening, Kyoya was intent on discussing his findings, but Setsuko seemed to be in an overly merry mood (she had been since the evening of the date; Kyoya thought she was <em>too <em>merry.)

The latter half of the ride home, her and the twins engaged in several rounds of loud, obnoxious singing and it seemed the music had not left her. She was humming a jaunty tune and springing around the entrance hall like a ballerina, pirouetting and nimbly bounding about.

He was not eager to beat around the bush any longer; she was purposefully delaying him, he knew.

"Ky-o-ya-kun," She twirled on the tips of her toes. "May I have this dance? You know, I've been _dying _for you to hold me in those fantastic_arms_of yours."

"I decline."

"Ahh, I forgot," Setsuko said, sounding scandalized. "Ootori Kyoya has two left feet."

He rolled his eyes, shrugging out of his jacket. "I assure you, were that true, that would be the least of my worries."

"Haa~? So, the all-knowing Ootori Kyoya can dance too? You must demonstrate. I don't believe we would be hard-pressed to put on some ballroom music in the hall," Setsuko hummed, imitating a waltz with an invisible man. "What do you say?"

"Are you really willing to risk it? Who knows — by the end of the dance, you may forfeit our game."

"Goodness! You're _truly _arrogant," said Setsuko. "You're tempting me, dear, to see if you can really back up all that _bravado._"

Kyoya advanced her, peering over his glasses at her miniature frame below. She'd stopped dancing for a moment. "I'd much rather do something else, _Setsuko-san._"

She seemed distressed for only a second. Then, she began to sing 'two-left-feet' around the hall at an increasing volume, pirouetting towards the dining room, being pursued by Kyoya. "Setsuko-san, you can't avoid me forever." _I can corner her in the dining room... I'll block the exit..._

But Kyoya never got his opportunity.

When they both toppled into the room, Kyoya with one hand roughly clasped on her upper-arm, they saw, to his immediate horror, Yoshio, Kyoya's two brothers, Akito and Yuuichi, and Kyoya recognized the sleek black hair of his sister, Fuyumi. Kyoya's mouth was bone-dry; he was too busy being mortified to marvel at how rare Yoshio sharing a family dinner was.

Setsuko promptly stopped twirling and singing but let out an involuntary squeak of laughter.

Yoshio (aside from a momentary twinge of disdain), Akito and Yuuichi remained poker-faced but Fuyumi, who had not visited in several months, looked perplexed. Still, it seemed she understood that the heavy feeling in the air was tension and spoke, however uncertain, "W-welcome home, Kyoya-san?"

He placed a hand at his middle and bowed, regaining his composure in an instant. "Thank you. It's been a while, Fuyumi-nee-san."

He shifted a furtive glance toward Setsuko attempting to send a telepathic message. It seemed that she understood, because she swiped her curls out of her face, yanked her blouse neckline up to the collarbone and curtsied. Instantly, she transformed into an unrecognizable version of herself; a mild expression and her body elegantly lowered like the smooth curve of a swan's neck.

"Good evening, Yoshio-san, Akito-san, Yuuichi-san. How do you do?" she said, lifting her head to smile. She was greeted with nothing more than a queer grunt from Akito. Setsuko was not phased. She looked at Fuyumi. "I don't believe we've been acquainted. However, I've heard good things about your kindness as Kyoya-san's older sister. I'm Setsuko."

Fuyumi gave a sincere, albeit tentative, smile. "How nice to meet you. I'm Fuyumi."

"Pleasure."

"Likewise."

"Fuyumi-nee-san, it's uncommon to have you visit without the company of Shido-san," said Kyoya. "He is alright?"

Fuyumi, who was a dark-haired, fair-skinned woman with an uncanny resemblance to Kyoya, nodded. "Yes, Akihiko is healthy. He had a prearranged engagement and couldn't visit today. He'll be here for the party in a couple of weeks," she explained. "I believe your father is visiting as well, Setsuko-san?"

"Yes. I'm quite excited to reunite."

Yoshio interjected with a shred of disapproval, "I expect the two of you had a _relaxing_ vacation."

"Yes, sir," she said as she rose from her curtsy. "I must thank you for allowing me such a privilege. My father is known to be quite inflexible at times; I'm sure it was a hassle to bargain with him to get me permission."

"Please. Kyoya was solely responsible for such."

"Ah? I shall be sure to thank him as well."

Kyoya found his patience waning and knew that she would attempt to prolong her stay in the dining room for as long as possible. "You must excuse us, father, we've just arrived and need to unpack our things before we can converse."

"Kyoya-san," said Setsuko. "I believe we can spare a few minutes before we organize things. After all, I noticed you haven't eaten today. You must be famished."

His eyes narrowed. "Not. Particularly."

"Are you feeling sick?"

Kyoya grimaced down toward her. Her beseeching eyes were widening, trying to signal him. "Perhaps you should have a meal and we'll tend to your health later."

He ground his molars. With a mere 'hn', Kyoya relented and sat diagonally from his father, adjacent his sister, and allowed Setsuko to be seated on his left.

The dining room was possibly the plainest room in the Ootori mainhouse. Other rooms, aside from Kyoya's own bedroom, were lavishly decorated, adding splashes of colour to the walls and floors which were metallic gray. The dining room was a large, chamber with an immensely high ceiling; the circular lights were installed directly into it in two perpendicular rows running length-wise, opposite each other. The gray panels that composed the walls were utterly spotless. The room was nearly empty with only the mahogany high-backed chairs and the dining table (which was spotless itself; one could see themselves reflected upon the glasslike surface) and the deep plum rug that had gold thread embroidering creating spectacularly detailed webs along its perimetre.

Kyoya frowned down at his dinner plate and at the diminutive figure beside him, Setsuko, who sat innocently, upright, like a proper lady.

_How annoying._

He watched her with a swelling resentment. He noted that she prodded the green vegetables to the edge of the plate, glowering.

Throughout the dinner, the men were relatively quiet aside from Yoshio's sporadic comment toward one of three of his sons ("How are you progressing with the...?") but Fuyumi and Setsuko were conferring quite fluently. It happened that Fuyumi was a fan of Setsuko's fashion career. Setsuko gushed with pride. The two of them spent a large amount of time happily clucking on about Fuyumi's frilly olive-coloured dress, and had moved on to the brand of her ruby lipstick.

He had a suspicion that the two of them would form a friendship. His head throbbed. _A friendship between _them _will be nothing but a ghastly headache._

Kyoya's mind was still teeming with information and boiling questions — questions that needed bloody answers.

And now he was angry, very angry, _toiling _in his anger as Setsuko and Fuyumi made polite conversation and his father chewed and Yuuchi coughed and his own damned fork kept scraping on his plate.

Yoshio rose and excused himself, only bidding goodnight to Setsuko as he retired. One by one, they began to file out of the room. However, as Setsuko noticed that the men had left, she fled before finishing her lemon tiramisu, leaving Kyoya and Fuyumi alone.

Kyoya made a jerking motion like he was going to dart after her and tackle her to the floor, but refrained as Fuyumi began speaking.

"Kyoya-san, Setsuko-san is adorable!" she exclaimed. "She's a sweet girl."

His eyes kept flickering desperately to the door but he settled back into his chair. "Hn, is that so?"

"Don't you think so?"

He ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth. "Yes. Setsuko-san is fairly amicable, if that is what you mean."

Fuyumi frowned. "My my, does that sound mechanic!"

"Fuyumi-nee-san, whether or not I approve of Setsuko-san is irrelevant. It is father's wish, as well as the wish of Abukara Yuuji, that I chaperone her to the fullest of my abilities, and it would be unwise to either question that request or defy it. I will simply fulfill my place as an objective chaperone; _un_prejudiced."

He mentally acknowledged each of the several flaming lies as he spewed them.

"Ahh, I was expecting that answer from you," she sighed. "I was only thought that the two of you seemed to have chemistry..."

He scoffed. "Chemistry, indeed. You are not the first person to have that misconception, unfortunately. I never expected everybody's skills of perception to be so dismally low."

"Methinks thou dost protest too much."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard," she smiled. "Don't you think you're denying it a little _too _enthusiastically?"

When he looked to his sister, she had a look of smugness.

He grated his teeth against each other and did not give himself time enough to consider if there may be truth in what she said.

"Please. I _implore _you to impose your fantasies on somebody else."

Fuyumi looked further argumentative, but Kyoya could not ignore that Setsuko had probably locked herself in the bathroom at this point. "You'll forgive me this rudeness, but I must go unpack my suitcase. Tomorrow, I return to the academy. You understand."

Without waiting for a full reply, he made his way to his room and only paused to speak to Aoi who was waiting obediently by the front entrance. Kyoya absentmindedly ordered him to bring the suitcases.

Before ascending the staircase that lead to the hallway that contained his and Setsuko's bedrooms, he noticed that her door was closed.

_What a fool to think she can hide from me forever, _he thought. _I suppose this is the natural advantage I have as her chaperone, the one that my father insured from the beginning. After all, that door has no lock._

With only the intention of storing his suitcase in the closet, then going to see her, he stood by the door frame and waited for Aoi, who had brought in both pieces of luggage from the trunk of his car to lumber into the room, panting and exposing his sharpened fang. "You want me to deliver Setsuko-sama's luggage as well, bocchan?"

"No thank you, Aoi. I can man-"

The trilling of the telephone interrupted him. An idea dawned on him; Kyoya made haste. He picked up the receiver.

Before he could say 'hello', a woman's voice croaked over the phone. "Hello?"

He froze.

"Hello? Hell-"

The woman hung up.

Kyoya did too.

_Everything makes sense, _he thought. He rummaged through his bedside table drawer, searching for something... something... _Found it._

Without further delay, Kyoya walked briskly to Setsuko's room. He entered without so much as a knock to find her standing bedside in her silky nightgown once more, swilling a glass of water. He shut the door behind him.

"Do you have an explanation?" he asked. "Or shall I share my findings first?"

Setsuko did not seem surprised. She sat on the mattress and netted her fingers with her usual vacant expression. "By this point, I should think you know the natural order of things. You first share your theories, and I will tell you whether they are correct or not."

"Very well," he said.

"I phoned a private investigator concerning these frequent phone calls. I had him delve into the history of your old cellphone, the Nakamura estate, and _very _extensively into the Ootori mainhouse itself," he explained. "Unfortunately, the mainhouse drew empty, unusable results. However, I was very interested in the similarities between your cellphone history and that of the Nakamura estate the same weekend we resided there.

"One number which was recurring on your cellphone had phoned a few times in the three day duration. When I traced the number to a location, I discovered that it belonged to a flat in Brooklyn, New York," he said as he watched her scrupulously. "My investigator sifted through the neighborhood history to find any relevance to the apartment. There were, in fact, minor newspaper articles concerning it.

"It just so happens that the flat is rented to an absentee tenant, strangely, a David Scott. The landlord, an elderly man named Zachary Hamil admitted to only meeting with the man a handful of times, but was offered amounts of cash that far _exceeded _6 months rent, up front. He claims that during his brief meetings with Scott, the man was hooded; Hamil could only describe him as Caucasian, bearded and middle-aged. Hamil has yet to meet again with David Scott and is sent cheques through mail for monthly rent.

"Neighbors admit they've never seen him but have heard noises, evidence of life within the apartment. Due to this, that flat was under suspicion from local authorites of being grounds for drug production or other _unsavory _activity. There was a brief investigation, but it turned up blank; the apartment had nothing in it aside from the utilities, a bed and a _telephone_."

Kyoya waited for a reaction. Setsuko remained impassive, but prompted him to continue with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Indeed, this struck me as quite strange," he continued. "As I have never heard of a David Scott while researching your background, I concluded that it was an alias. And what a clever alias, indeed, as the names 'David' and 'Scott' are extremely common; searching databases for a David Scott would be as tedious as searching for a John Smith.

"However, a new piece of information has come into light _most _recently. You see, it's become apparent to me that the David Scott in question is not necessarily a man." Kyoya crossed his arms expectantly. She remained unresponsive. The burden on his mind was lessening, but his own confusion still weighed down; he continued.

"Now, as of sixty seconds ago, I have shaped two theories. The woman harassing you over the phone is a woman, _not _as you so falsely stated, a man; your non-existent ex-boyfriend. According to a background check I ran on you months prior to present, you have no apparent ties to any women aside from these two — apparently, your only connections were to your parents and your private tutor, a man named Emmet Greer."

This was the first time he saw a reaction. Setsuko cringed at the name and fixed her eyes to the floor. Kyoya had not expected her to react to something he deemed insignificant.

He considered pressing the matter, but her choked voice implored, "Do not tell me what I already know. What are your theories, Kyoya-kun?"

Now hesitant, he began again. "The woman I spoke to mere minutes ago was aged. This leads me to believe it is either Maria Hale, your adoptive mother, or your _biological _mother."

She gave a tiny gasp. Her sapphire eyes blazed, but she seemed less concerned with his theories; she looked horrified that he had spoken to somebody over the phone.

"Please, Kyoya-kun. Do not stop there."

"Your father has three main properties where he and you frequent. One is in Japan, but you have never visited until this year, in fact, only months preceding your stay here. His other property is his largest, a mansion in Poughkeepsie, New York, where he set up his first theater/arts institution and gradually pushed south to Broadway. His third property is closest to David Scott's apartment; a penthouse in Manhattan.

"His penthouse allowed you to indulge in nighttime New York City and after the divorce, you would illegally visit your mother, correct?"

"That is a hefty accusation," she remarked. "Do you have any evidence?"

Kyoya drew a small, leather-bound notebook from his pocket that he had hurriedly shoved in before leaving his room. It was his own composition of newspaper and magazine articles concerning Setsuko had he had made immediately after being assigned as a chaperone, his most potent weapon against her yet.

He unfurled a particularly crumpled clipping. "You were allegedly spotted roaming around New York at nighttime. One person says, specifically, that they spotted you loitering outside a train station at 11:45 pm, although that source wasn't very reliable, rather a drunkard, and was therefore dismissed."

"I admit I was suspicious when I came across that, so I checked the schedule. A train arriving at approximately that time would take one from Queens to Manhattan. Miss Hale lives in Queens, does she not?"

The blonde, in spite of herself, looked impressed. "How very thorough of you, Kyoya-kun."

"Hmm. Naturally." He found himself smirking. "That leaves the last location, David Scott's flat in Brooklyn, which neither Miss Hale nor your father own... Has your biological mother been contacting you from this location?"

He felt he had hit the nail on the head from the look on Setsuko's suddenly pale face; straining, searching for words, it seemed. Finally, after muttering to herself and nodding feverishly, she looked as though she had resolved something with herself.

"Would you like to know _everything_, Kyoya-kun?"

"Everything?"

"Everything about me. I'm giving you an irreplaceable opportunity. You have a thirst for knowledge otherwise you wouldn't have bothered to confront me as you are. I'd be happy to satisfy it, while giving myself some relief. It isn't good to bottle things up, after all. So. Would you like to know everything?"

All things considered, the dark-haired boy was not reluctant in nodding. "Good. I've been thinking about it most recently, anyway. You know it's almost a month to their divorce-anniversary?"

"Is that relevant?"

"Quite." She gave a benign smile, though her eyes did not change, nor did her cheeks lift. "Still, a bit of a solemn anniversary, isn't it? Much like a funeral. Horrid thing to celebrate, that. Sometimes I wonder if any people do."

He paced backward and seated himself into an egg shaped chair that had been moved into Setsuko's room a couple weeks prior (on her command) and waited more patiently now for her to speak.

Setsuko waited until he was comfortable settled. "Now. You'll be happy to be informed that you are right," she said. "However, not about my biological mother. I have never known her and I have no desire to find her. I am content in my ignorance."

He couldn't refrain from feeling slightly deflated by this but that feeling was soon eclipsed by the information she was about to divulge.

"The person calling me was my adoptive mother," she said tersely as if the words were sharp in her throat.

"Do explain."

Setsuko suddenly seemed fatigued as she massaged her scalp, eyes squeezed tight. "That apartment isn't hers, and as far as David Scott, I can assure you, I know no such man. However, I would venture a guess and say that it is either my uncle or one of his... _subordinates._"

He shifted forth, to the edge of his chair. She continued, "Naturally, children don't take sides with any one parent during a divorce, correct? As was the case with my mother's and father's. I was twelve. However naive I still was, I knew that they would divorce. For me, I wasn't shocked, nor particularly devastated. It was more than apparent to me, the nature of my parents. My mother smelled like Scotch, my father smelled like Chanel, and the entire house _reeked _of misery and of everything in their marriage that had rotted inside." She smiled. It hardly seemed appropriate.

"From what I've gathered, my father married her purely because of her appearance. After all, before the marriage, she wasn't anybody particularly worth mentioning. Her parents were rather ordinary. However, I suspect that she looked like my biological mother, who was, perhaps, somebody who my father wasn't able to marry. Thus, keeping both women hidden until they were married and I was born, my father was able to pull the wool over the media's eyes for about twelve years.

"Perhaps I'll give a unpleasant impression of them in explaining all this but they were good parents. I never blamed either of them for the awful things that happened there, in Poughkeepsie. Sometimes, of course, we would stay at the penthouse. Perhaps it was my father's idea of changing the scenery, but I digress... Admittedly, some awful things _did _happen. My mother had mood swings; violent, really. She was like a tornado at the height of these. When she was drunk, she would hit anything standing in her path. Sometimes it was the furniture, sometimes it was me."

Kyoya was astonished at how composedly she was explaining this. In fact, it was all very anti-climatic; she had simply said it, with a smile no less. He half-expected her to show him bruises or scars or to break down sobbing. She remained still.

"It wasn't ongoing; I would barely categorize it as abuse. It was merely an occurrence. Still, at those times, my father would be my lifeline and save me from that situation," she said. "Oh, but my mother loved me very much, Kyoya-kun," she added hastily. "Don't misunderstand. Even if she was a prisoner to the drink, those small moments of sobriety was when she showed it. The guilt could eat her alive; how could I blame her?

"Now, my father's affairs did not affect me directly, but rather through my mother. I suppose it contributed to her alcoholism. Anyway, as young as I was, I understood that my father did not sleep with other women for his pleasure. It was for his career."

Kyoya was less surprised at this. He had suspected such.

"He believed that the shortest route to infiltrating a man's mind was through his woman. Of course, he carefully selected which women to apply this method with; the ones who would keep their mouths shut. He would sleep with them, leave them wanting more and eventually, these women would advise their husbands to maintain a close relationship with him and even convince them that partnering would be beneficial. It was merely give-and-take. That was what I deduced anyway."

Setsuko twisted her curls absentmindedly — this persistent habit of hers seemed to return fiercely as she ended up curling her entire head as she spoke, Kyoya noted.

"Needless to say, my mother was never happy when she found out; although, like me, she always _really _knew. She would drink even more, if possible. She threw a lamp at him once, I think. Terrible injury, it was." Kyoya recalled when a particularly neurotic Yuuji came around the house in an arm cast.

"Anyway, when the divorce was finalized, obviously my mother, who had lost custody, took it harder. My father took me to Poughkeepsie while my mother stayed with an old roommate in Queens. We didn't end up speaking until I was 14, almost two years ago, when I began to sneak out and walk around New York City. We met secretly in Queens, even though I knew it was horribly wrong. It was not, and still is not, in my capacity to hate my own mother, but I knew then and know now that she is unstable.

"These meetings were often regulated by," she paused, sneering. "a man I detest."

For the first time, her facial expression changed, now in an alarmingly severe look of revulsion; her peach skin was beginning to get pink and blotchy. She stared at the wall as if the taintless creme paint had been smeared with something revolting like the squashed innards of an insect.

"Emmet Greer?"

She was startled by the mention of the name, then stared at him incredulously. "Goodness, no. Never."

It seemed she was aware of how suspicious the reaction was. She cleared her throat, awkward. "Right then. No, the man I despise is one by the name of Theodore Hale, goes by Ted or Teddy."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to him. After struggling to recall exactly how he recognized the name. "Hale?" Kyoya raised an eyebrow. "A family member?"

"An uncle," she replied. "Theodore is very close to my mother, as they have been since childhood."

"And why is it that you detest him so?" Kyoya asked, becoming impatient with the pace of the story.

Setsuko froze, seemingly affronted by his interruptions, but also as if it were inconceivable to her that any human wouldn't hate him. "Because. Theodore is not a good man. He was raised under the prejudices of my grandfather, and while they did not stick to my mother, they certainly were _embedded _in young Teddy. He's a pigheaded racist who hated my father as he hates all foreigners and was elated when they divorced. He, or one of his inferiors, is your David Scott.

"You were right in assuming that it was an alias, if it was, in fact, the man himself. But chances are that it was not. Theodore will always have a man to do his dirty work for him. Not very honourable; calls himself a 'business' man. Quite pathetic, really. It will come as no surprise to you that the 'business' he specializes in happens to be of a rather _corrupt_ nature. There isn't a hallucinating, drooling burnout in New York who doesn't know his name. I would be doubtful if there was one in all of America. You see, Theodore was prudent enough to get himself a day job as a cover... I'm a little astonished that you have not identified him yet."

At this, Kyoya was offended. "Should I always be an encyclopedia?"

Setsuko's eyes betrayed amusement. "Touchy~! I was only speculating; you see, he's affiliated with a international shipping company. You must have heard of Bailey&Maude, of course?"

Then, those muddy memories that were rather insignificant and, thus, untouched and deserted in a very dusty corner of Kyoya's mind came surging forth, flaring like a great, red beacon as if it had been so obvious before.

Bailey&Maude was the middle man; the shipping company that Ootori Group used when it came to hospital supplies, pharmaceutical supplies and equipment. Theodore Hale was a higher-up, working in an executive job, rather than in a warehouse. Kyoya had seen his name several times on shipping forms, as he normally sifted through combed through the company paperwork.

"And his position at the company," said Kyoya. "allows him many advantages when it comes to shipping his personal products."

"Precisely. If only it were that bad. Theodore has built himself an entire empire of illicit products; anywhere from drugs to counterfeits to weapons (of course, he's always had a disturbing fascination with guns since childhood, mother tells me). Everything he touches turns to filthy gold and everybody he touches is infected with his immorality. His friends are his workers, his customers are his workers and the ones indebted to him are _slaves_. He wields power like no man should. Especially not a man like him, violent and hateful..."

Such venom engulfed her words. She hissed and snorted viciously halfway through sentences; her eyes were narrowed into slits and she looked almost cat-like. "He hates me, obviously, since I'm what he would call a 'Half-Breed'. But his love for my mom is undoubtedly deep," she uttered, apparently repulsed. "Since the divorce, since her depression, he's been fixed on getting me to live with her illegally. Anyways, David Scott's apartment is probably a safe house for him and his workers, one of their many bases.

"My mother tells me that he gave her a key so that when she gets wasted and needs a place to sleep, she can use it. I should suppose that is why there was only a bed and a telephone in the flat. That is how she has been contacting me."

Something in her tone was conclusive and it let Kyoya know that her story was finished.

Setsuko fixed her sapphire eyes upon him, inviting him to say anything.

He removed his glasses from his face and burnished them in a tiny revolving motion with the bottom of his shirt. "That is quite the load you've unleashed."

She exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for minutes on end. "Is that all?"

"Hmm. I hadn't expected your explanation to be so in-depth," Kyoya goaded, perching his glasses back on his nose. "There is, of course, the obvious question."

"Proceed."

"Why do you pick up the phone?"

Setsuko pursed her lips. "Why, indeed. I've told you..." she released a long, audible gust of breath as she fell back onto the cloud-like mattress, the duvet and the downy pillows billowing around her tiny body. "Lie with me, Kyoya."

A rumbling throat-clearing told her that he was not disposed to do so.

"Oh, please. I'm almost certain that we're past all the implications of lying in the same bed, what with all the pillow-sharing we've done in the past month, hmm?"

"Perhaps not true. You _are _due to fall for me any day now."

They shared a smirk before Kyoya flopped down onto the bed next to her. She thrust her hand up into the air, making shapes with her fingers as if she were modelling imaginary clay. He felt something tickling his neck; he had lain on some of her sprawled out golden hair.

"Obviously I would answer the phone..." she began abruptly. "Like I've said, I've been unable to harbor any bitter feelings toward either her or my father. I miss her, no matter how unstable, no matter how intoxicated — no matter how she may poison my life. What daughter wouldn't jump at the chance to hear her mother's voice from a thousand miles away? At the same time, I know that to touch her, be with her, would be too much..."

After a while, Kyoya sighed and found the itch to laugh. "Such a simplistic reason."

"Of course," Setsuko remarked. "I'm fifteen going on sixteen, why do I need a melodramatic reason? I'm still only a girl, after all."

"Hmm, a fact that seems to regularly escape your mind."

The blonde girl giggled. "So it seems~! My mother always reminds me of that," she said in her characteristically wispy voice.

"Concerning that, as a chaperone, I should be administering these phone conversations if they are to occur at all. If Miss. Hale is as unstable as you have described, it is my obligation to prevent any dangerous circumstances."

Setsuko shook her head. "No need. I won't be speaking to her. It will only enable her."

He was astounded at how responsible she was. It reminded him of Tamaki, being unpredictable in every meaning of the word.

"I see..."

There was a long space in which nothing was said, but he could hear her calm, steady breathing as if she were directly in his ear. _It must be the closeness, _he thought, because he could also smell her, but that felt like strangely like an understatement. Rather, Kyoya was inundated in her scent; that aroma of cinnamon and frosting and cake batter and all he could do was wonder how the devil she smelled so richly. It was certainly unhinging, that he was overwhelmed with her fragrance. It reminded him very dimly of the afternoon on which she was sick and he was inching toward her... inching... unconsciously...

"Ne, Kyoya-kun?"

He was snatched from his reverie. "What is it?"

"Have you ever read 'The Velveteen Rabbit'?"

Disconcerted, he replied, "No, I haven't."

"What a shame," she whispered. "It's beautiful. About a velveteen rabbit, obviously, who is loved by a boy in a nursery... and he wants so much to become real... and because the boy loved him, and because he cries a real tear and because of some... magic Nursery Fairy, or something silly like that, he does."

There was a tremor in her sigh.

"That was my favorite book when I was little. It was a symbol of unity in our house because the only time we became a real family was when they read me The Velveteen Rabbit. Whether my father met up with a woman that night, or my mother opened another bottle of wine was completely irrelevant... I would be sleeping by then, of course..."

Kyoya felt as though he were encroaching on a private moment, the way she spoke.

Setsuko rolled over on her stomach, now a mere hairbreadth away from his face. "You know what else?"

"Hmm?"

"When I first heard about the divorce, about eleven going on twelve, I read another book, not a storybook. I thought it was spectacular."

"Is that so?" He shrunk away from her slightly. "And what book was that?"

Setsuko traced shapes on his chest with her fingernail. "Beatty's Big Book of Birds."

Kyoya gaped, then found himself faintly smiling, beyond his control. "And why, might I ask, were you so fascinated with this book?"

"One chapter really captured my interest," she said. "I read about swans. I'd never thought they were particularly special until I read that a swan has only one lover. One lover for their entire life. If their lover were to die, they would die too of brokenhearted-ness. Isn't that remarkable? It's dedication! I thought, that was dedication on a more refined level than any human I knew. Humans are supposed to be the most to be the most intelligent creatures on Earth. So why, then, is a swan capable of a more profound love than my own parents? If a swan has a predetermined soulmate, why do we not?"

"I figured you would be the type to believe in soulmates."

"No," she said. "If there _were _soulmates, I would have thought I found mine by now. But unfortunately, it's an unrequited love."

"Haruhi?"

Setsuko laid her head on his chest. Kyoya became uneasy — she would surely feel the vibrations of his thrumming chest. "No. A man."

He froze for one delusional second. Then, shaking the embarrassing thoughts out his head, he suggested, "Emmet Greer?"

"Actually, yes."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes," she repeated. "Mr. Greer. He was my tutor, you know. I have to show some respect."

The thought of her showing respect to anybody was laughable. "Was he not older than you?"

"Indeed, much older. He must be 25 by now. He must have known, too. It must be strange to tutor an eleven year-old girl who is smitten with you. Mr. Greer was much too decent to say anything." The admiring tone in her voice bothered Kyoya. "Anyway, I've always had the impression that he was fond of my mother. Not that it matters much. Not now, anyway."

He shifted beneath the weight of her head. Her hair smelled nice too; a wafting scent of vanilla. "I presume you've..."

"Gotten over it? Of course." She lifted her head to grin at him. "Have you ever known me to dwell on things?"

Kyoya simpered. "How very mature."

"Thank you."

He pushed himself upright, causing her to slide off his chest. He began to leave when she clutched onto his wrist. "It's time for bed," he said.

"It's too early!"

He wrested her claw from his wrist and strode away from the bed, toward the door. "You forget, Setsuko-san. You need your sleep. How else do you expect to grow any taller than the common golf club?"

She made a noise like an irate cat. "Shut up."

Kyoya left the room with a wave of dismissal over his head, shutting off all the lights.

On the way to his bedroom, however, he noticed that somebody was standing in the reception area of his bedroom, at the foot of the staircase.

Disbelieving, he saw that it was Yoshio.

Hurriedly, Kyoya descended the stairs to stand before his father. As he was approaching the bottom, he realized that something was peculiar about his father; then he realized that something was _dreadfully _wrong with him.

Yoshio rarely varied facial expression, but at the moment, he somehow looked distraught. His clothes were ruffled, his tie slightly askew. There was a nervousness about his face. He shared the same look as Abukara Yuuji, all neurotic and twitchy, however, not nearly as much.

"Kyoya."

Kyoya's face hardened.

"What were you doing?"

The dark-haired boy did not flinch. "Tucking in Setsuko-san, of course, as she requested of me."

"Hmm," the man grunted. He did not seem so concerned with this. His voice was strangely watery as he said, "The vacation. On your vacation... I trust that there were no unforeseen complications?"

Utterly befuddled, Kyoya shook his head. "No complications, father."

"Setsuko remained under your vigilance for the duration of the trip?" Strength solidified in Yoshio's voice as it was commanding once more. "Answer me truthfully, Kyoya."

"Yes." He did not lie.

Yoshio entangled a hand in his hair and nodded, apparently absorbing this. "Rightfully so. Thank you. You may leave."

There was a strained pause before Yoshio realized that he was in Kyoya's room, at which point, he turned and left. Kyoya stood there, barely processing what had just happened.

_Father... what is happening?_

* * *

><p>AN: Chapter on Emmet Greer next (probably). Reviews would be nice :)


	13. Poughkeepsie

A/N: Oh lawd. The last chapter got a lot of positive reception! :) Thank you all so much! I think I scared my puppy with my scream. I have exams soon so hopefully I'll be alive to update the rest of these chapters! Thanks!

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: Poughkeepsie<p>

_Most of her days were spent in the attic._

_The majority of the mansion was to be kept tidy and uncluttered by her toys for the comfort of Yuuji's business associates. They attempted to confine her to her room, but they soon discovered that it was far too small to contain all of her playthings. Maria suggested renovating the attic. Almost immediately after, they had gone to work and built a grand nursery with pink velvet wall upholstery and caramel-colored hardwood floors. Yuuji always prattled on about how he would never forget the elated expression on her face as she first glimpsed the new room, gleaming in the sunlight showering in from the clerestory windows._

_But that was four years ago._

_Her tenth birthday, August twentieth, had been just two short days before._

_Now, at ten years old, Setsuko had far outgrown her toys. The dolls, including the ballerina and Rapunzel, lay lifeless in the toy box beneath the over-sprung Jack-in-the-Box whose watery facepaint made him grim and the threadbare puppy dog with one marble eye missing and his tongue lolling from his mouth. Even her old favorite, her Clydesdale rocking-horse with the glossy, black mane had been so worn that the layer of leather and plush was now gruesomely stripping away from the wire-structure skeleton._

_The attic was now her sanctuary for ten-year-old activities. However, her parents agreed that they were quite curious activities for such a young girl; they were all very silent. _Her most recent hobbies included_ writing with feather quills in journals that had thick, golden padlocks, arranging bouquets of flowers in ceramic vases and making needlepoint doilies for tea-time which was precisely 4:00 in the evening._

_At the time, she was concentrating on needlepointing a floral doily in absolute silence._

_"Setsuko-chan," his voice beckoned from the floor below her. "I have to show you something."_

_Obediently, Setsuko rose and made her way toward the exit, glancing back longingly at her doily._

_She arrived before her father who was now in the second living room, which was the formal area for all the visiting partners. As she realized this, Setsuko prepared herself in every mirror on the way down. She assured herself that the French plait running along the top of her head was flawless and that her collar was crisply folded and that her dress, the colour of buttercups, was fluffed to perfection, frills and ruffles and lace and all._

_Her father greeted her with a kindly smile as always. Today, his face was full, despite the hollow lines that permanently ran through it. Some days, she thought, Yuuji seemed thinner than others. Generally, he was a beanpole of a man; twiglike. But there were days that Yuuji returned home with the look of a stray dog, malnourished and scraggly. He seemed particularly paranoid on those days specifically, probably fresh from another woman's neck, Setsuko surmised._

_"I have a guest for you," he said. He side-stepped to allow a man to step forth. "This is Mr. Emmet Greer."_

* * *

><p>She shuddered.<p>

_How odd, _Setsuko thought, _I haven't thought about New York in months._

The burden of her book bag was slung over her shoulder, causing her to stand slightly lopsided. She hadn't had much energy that day to stand straight without hunching over in the first place. She had been awake the night before, muddling over whether or not she should have told Kyoya her secrets.

The last thing she needed was a pitying glance or a patronizing pat on the back.

Then again, Kyoya was not well-known for bestowing sympathy upon anybody. For this reason alone, Setsuko was restful.

She was strolling through the hall, _clack-clack_ing against the tiles, pristine and positively glimmering. The rose coloured hallways seemed to stretch endlessly before her, like a labyrinth, perpetually unfolding as she walked it's winding paths. Ouran was enormous. Indeed, she had been at the school for more than a month but there were still hidden corridors and unknown passages and staircases left unexplored. She tingled with excitement at the mere thought of it.

The bell had just rung and she had meandered all the way to the Third Music Room, as she normally did after school. The succulent fragrance of the club room had overflowed into the hallway of the Academy — a mixture of sharp-smelling spices.

She pushed the door open.

Immediately she was greeted with the chorus of Hosts.

"Welcome, Young Miss."

Setsuko grinned. "It's only me."

They were all wrapped in Indian-style high-collared garbs of mostly red and gold, embellished with elaborate thread patterns. Tamaki was certainly the most attention-grabbing; his robes seemed to be the most striking, as they were shimmering in certain places and he wore a headdress encrusted with a ruby and draped with beads with a large feather erected on it. He sat in the center of their arrangement with the twins on either side of him, Mori and Kyoya behind and Hunny to his right.

"Oh, Setsuko-chan! Welcome, welcome!"

"Eh? This is an interesting theme."

Tamaki beamed. "Thank you, thank you! It really is one of our more popular themes! Enjoy today, Setsuko-chan."

She returned his warm smile and seated herself on her usual couch. As was a typical afternoon, the scowls of jealous females were soaring across the room toward her from every direction; girls who wanted nothing more than to bayonet her through the chest, no doubt.

Setsuko was not troubled by these feebly violent stares but believed it would be decent not to acknowledge them. Instead, to diffuse their anger, she selected a particularly stodgy schoolbook from her messenger bag and pretended to read (although the bitty printed letters were nothing but scrambled symbols that might as well have been hieroglyphics, tumbling across a yellowing page). _They'll eventually get bored, the hyenas._

Eventually, Haruhi, who looked as plain as always in simple tan-coloured robes, offered to prepare her some herbal tea and sweets. There hadn't been one occasion on which Setsuko had ever refused sweets, so she accepted in hopes that sugar in her system would stimulate her very dull senses.

The moment Haruhi left, Setsuko thought about New York yet again...

* * *

><p><em>Without thinking, Setsuko curtsied. "How do you do?"<em>

_The man replied in a voice that surprised her; it was quite smooth, fluid almost. "I'm fine, thank you."_

_She didn't understand why she was being presented with a man, but found her ten-year-old self appreciating his outward appearance. Though his voice suggested that perhaps he was a meek figure, the man was tall with well-toned muscles and a rugged smile, a clean-shaven jaw. He was relatively young and healthy with a broad chest and set of shoulders, and very long legs. His olive skin tone mingled with his chestnut hair which was semi-long and pulled back into a low ponytail. His features were set into a smile, beaming down upon her. She decided after absorbing him for long enough that he was quite handsome, however unconventionally._

_The man named Emmet Greer was dressed in black pants, polished dress-shoes and a white dress-shirt, but no suit jacket, which eliminated the possibility of him being an associate, she gathered._

_"The two of you should get better acquainted," Yuuji suggested, raking his fingers through his untidy hair. "Please, Mr. Greer."_

_"Certainly," the man replied._

_Yuuji stalked off after reminding Setsuko to be on her best behavior._

_She felt intimidated, being alone in the presence of a stranger, a man, no less. She resisted the urge to fidget, and instead offered Emmet a seat. He graciously accepted, speaking in a manner that well-suited his appearance of a gentleman._

_They sat together, Setsuko most nervously, but Emmet remaining collected and unaffected by the privacy._

_"Setsuko, I apologize for showing up so abruptly. My name is Emmet Greer. You can call me whatever you like."_

_"Of course," she said._

_Out of pure wonderment, she abruptly asked, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Greer?"_

_Emmet seemed astonished."Well... I'll be your private tutor. I would have thought Mr. Yuuji would have already..."_

Tutor? _She blinked stupidly at Emmet, her mouth in an oval. "My tutor."_

_"Yes. Yuuji says that it would be much better for you to grow with skills befitting you if you were home-schooled. I'll be your teacher, and I'll be your classmates too. I hope we'll get along nicely."_

_"I'll be home?"_

_"That's typically what home-schooling entails," he said with a sardonic curve of his eye-brow._

_"I-indeed..."_

_Setsuko found it hard to retain _— _that she would not see her classmates again. Setsuko did not have friends, hardly any acquaintances. Naturally, there were three things fastening her to her loneliness; her quietness, for one, and her height hardly being more than the average second-grader and her strange option of clothing, as she normally wore her porcelain doll dresses, never neglecting a single ribbon._

_She was very conscious of the fact that the other children whispered nicknames behind her back, nasty little sarcastic things like inch-worm, shrimpy 'su, and most commonly, Bambi, because had the wide-eyed appearance of a doe but was much more awkward._

_Nevertheless, she enjoyed school hours. The noise of the classroom was pacifying for her. She loved to read at recess with the blather and footfalls in the background like static from a half-tuned radio. It was nice to know that she was surrounded by a Julie and a Tom and a Sarah who were happy and unharmed. _

_She felt the sheer horridness of never having that comfort again. Her insides writhed and she swallowed what seemed to be a rather large knot in her throat._

_"Of course."_

_"I get to teach you a lot from now on," Emmet said, traces of excitement underlying his words. "I'll teach you a wide range of lessons. Of course you'll learn your arithmetic and your literature, but I know other things. Yuuji insists that I teach you violin, piano, dance-"_

_"I already _know _dance," snapped Setsuko. She was annoyed with his enthusiasm. Didn't he know he just thieved her of her freedom? Didn't he know that she was dying to go back to school when the day came? "My father owns many dance studios. I study there. I know ballet and contemporary."_

_Emmet looked less shocked by the venom in her voice and instead, fascinated, which was the opposite effect Setsuko wanted to have._

_"I never doubted." He gave a smile._

_When Setsuko refused to speak, he continued the conversation. "I hear that you know Japanese. How very impressive."_

_The blonde girl tensed. "Japanese is my second language, naturally. I also speak Russian and Cantonese and I am dabbling in German. My father has a wide variety of clients. As such, I must learn to say 'Rada Vas videt'ʹ to Viktor Aliyev and 'Néih hóu' to Liang Zau and under the circumstances, 'Auf Wiedersehen' to Johan Diederich."_

_Emmet raised his eyebrows and continued to look impressed with her._

_"Then, in that case, I won't have any issues teaching you. You're smart enough on your own. We'll be able to have loads of fun, hm?"_

_She remained motionless, eyeballing him as if he were some sort of foreign creature, like a goblin or a gremlin that had just accidentally strolled in her living room (however, on some level, she constrained herself from comparing him to such unpretty bodies, for he was not nearly as barbaric, and sixty-four times as handsome)._

_"Hopefully we will, Mr. Greer."_

_The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You don't _have _to call me Mr. Greer. If you'd feel more comfortable calling me Emmet, I wouldn't be so opposed."_

_Setsuko digested this, then, wrenching her buttercup dress in her hands, arched like an eagle's talons, she replied, "Yes, Sir."_

* * *

><p><em>It was the first day of her lessons in late August when children regularly began the new school year.<em>

_Emmet suggested holding lessons in the yard._

_The autumn was approaching, the freshness of summer still hung over the Abukara mansion. This brought a balmy, bluish afternoon in the garden for lessons._

_The Abukara backyard was quite large. The perimeter was fenced by an eight-foot tall hedge, well-trimmed by the hired gardeners. A marble footpath that forked in multiple places created a sequence of channels leading to different areas of the yard. One path may lead one down an avenue bordered by bushes of reddish-pink orchids, upturning their sprightly faces to the sun, to a small grassy area where magnolia trees painted the sky. Another may lead one to the square in the very center of the yard where on an elevated platform, the gazebo casts a gentle shade over a glass table with spindly legs and the dewy lovers' rose bushes germinate._

_Setsuko and Emmet chose Setsuko's favorite path which led to a lilypond. They sat on a wicker bench in broad sunlight amongst the wildflowers; the daisies sprouted by the thousands, socializing with the patches of clovers and harmonizing the the marigold plants. The spotted orange tiger lillies beamed from all directions, budding from the bases of the stone water basins, which were chiseled with designs of hummingbirds and nightingales._

_They sat facing toward the pond that glittered like a million crystals bobbing on the surface, resplendently reflecting the sunlight on to Setsuko's teacup; quivering white streaks appeared on the side of her china glass as she watched, spellbound by the hypnotic rippling._

_Emmet hadn't spoken a word yet. He relaxed on the back of the bench, stretching his legs and respiring so indulgently that it was as if he were addicted to the sugary scent of the nectarous flowers._

_Then, he exhaled. "I'm not used to teaching in these conditions, but I'm sure a change of scenery is healthy too."_

_Indeed, Yuuji made certain that his daughter would be pampered while having lessons. To the right of the wicker bench was a silver trolley which held various trays, trays with teacups and teapots and little saucers stacked with sugar cube igloos, and at the very top of the trolley was a large desert carousel with platter upon platter of assorted pastries. Brownies, cookies, apple crumble squares and oatmeal clusters lay, drizzled with decorative sprinkles and syrups._

_Emmet extorted a small elastic-bound stack of cue-cards from the pocket of his trousers and gave her a tentative smile as he began to riffle through them._

_"So, you would be in grade four or five, this year, right?"_

_The words stung her. She winced. "Grade five."_

_"Grade five," he hummed. "I never would have guessed."_

_Irate, she rounded on him, nearly tossing her teacup halfway across the lawn in the process. "Why is that? You don't meet many fifth-graders my size?"_

_"I never have, no."_

_Setsuko felt her face heat up and scorching fury was frothing in her gut, broiling like acid and threatening to spill from her at any moment._

_"Right," said Emmet, oblivious. "We should be able to surf right through the fifth grade curriculum. We'll incorporate some more advanced material as well. I know it may be a bit unorthodox, but from what I've heard you can handle it. There are so many placed to begin. Maybe with botanical science? We are in the garden after all... no, no, we'll begin with maths! Then again, literature... literature... we can start with poetry, or a novel study, or dive straight into Shakespearean plays and sonnets and..." he continued to blither on incessantly, sifting through cue cards at lightning speed._

_Setsuko had never felt such annoyance._

_Thus, she had never felt the need to rebel._

_But she was now possessed by a bitterness she was not familiar with; she carelessly slung her teacup on the trolley, folded her arms and let her voice take control, low and mutinous. "You can do whatever you please. I do not care for any of it."_

_Immediately, he stopped talking and for the first time, appeared stunned._

_"Pardon, Setsuko?"_

_"I do not care for your lessons, you... you large person. You seem to be under the impression that _I _asked for tutoring, which is, in reality, quite _false_ because I do _not _want to be here, I am _not_supposed_ _to be here, and I certainly do _not _need to be taught _anything _by _you_, who I do not know, Sir, if you _are_, in fact, a Sir, because you do not appear to be a person very much older than a sixteen-year-old, much less do you_ speak _like one_._ How _old _are you anyway, sixteen and a half?"_

_A horrible silence ensued for such long moments thereafter, until the chirping of birds tore through it like a splash of cold water, awakening, sending chills down her spine._

_"I am not."_

_She jumped a little. "Pardon?"_

_"I am not. Sixteen, that is," he stated matter-of-factly. "Although, you were remarkably close."_

_Setsuko stammered softly. She had been resigned to receiving a well-deserved smack on the face after the words she had just spoken. However, the man named Emmet Greer returned with a kindly smile._

_"I'm twenty, if that is still important." Emmet stared into her eyes, her electrifyingly blue eyes which were wide with bewilderment. "You are my first student, this was my first lesson and it's gone splendidly so far, I might add."_

_Setsuko ripped away her gaze to stare at the lake through her bleary eyes now water-logged with a salty brew of shame and regret._

_He leaned forth with his elbows on his knees, close-mouthed for a little while longer. Then, "I can't say I blame you for being resentful toward me. After all, I'm not very charming and I'm not particularly kind either, am I? I pull you out of regular school and force my teachings down your throat. And forgive me if my words do escape me often, it's a nasty habit. Girls_ hate _it. In short, anyway,__ I understand."_

_She felt his muscled hand grip her knee and she felt a sickly shiver as goosebumps slithered up her arm._

_"But you're too smart," Emmet said, mouth spreading into a grin. He inched his face forth so that he was nearly in her ear. "You're too smart to be in a classroom of anchors; you won't thrive in the way you're supposed to. How can I let brains like yours waste away? As a teacher, it would make me queasy. I'm afraid you just won't escape from me that easily. No, I want you as my first student — I've decided! I'll stand beside you. I'll be your crutches; in all my years of learning and teaching, I've discovered that _that _is what everybody needs to grow strong. Like a little bean sprout tied to a popsicle stick. Like that._

"_You __may hate me all you please, but I swear to be your teacher until... until you shoot up to six feet, should that _ever_ happen... understand?"_

_The goosebumps had now crawled along her entire body as his baritone voice resonated through her head. She thought she might melt; her cheeks were scalding and the heat was creeping down her neck and towards the tip of her ears._

_"Ha... ha-haa... I understand. Sir."_

_He finally leaned back, away from her. "Good. Literature, then?"_

* * *

><p>Setsuko had already scarfed down a small strawberry shortcake, then a cranberry turnover and was halfway through a banana custard when she began to wonder why exactly she had begun calling Emmet Greer 'sir'. <em>It was sarcastic, I think... although, it probably made him feel good about himself, <em>she thought, tickled. She snickered into her handkerchief at the image of a brightening Emmet with his long hair flouncing upon his back, skipping or sparkling or something nit-witted of the like, as she found, later on, he was prone to do.

She pondered, stirring her masala tea with a silver spoon, whether or not that was the first moment she knew she loved Emmet Greer. Perhaps it was afterwards? Regardless, that was the first moment anybody had entertained the idea of her growing tall, or being a genius, for that matter.

_Yes, that was a good memory, _she thought. _Indeed._

That memory alone was possibly the only one that had not been polluted by that rotting house in Poughkeepsie, New York.

When she thought about her first lesson with Emmet, she thought about wildflowers and of green, strong-smelling grass. She thought about the birds bathing in the basins and of waterbugs backstroking across the pond surface. She thought of cobalt-blue skies greying with the evening as they read _Wuthering Heights._

When she thought about her first lesson with Emmet, she did not think about shattered vases or lipstick-smeared collars.

Setsuko did not think about the night when her favorite nanny sang her a lullaby in the rocking chair in the nursery, louder than the screams and the sobs from bellow and stronger than the deafening sound of the wooden chair as it splintered with impact to the floor. She sang until until she thought she was asleep. Setsuko did not think about what happened immediately afterwards either; her nanny dumping a drawer-full of clothes into a luggage carousel and storming out of the house, all the way, yelling over the clamor toward the heavens — prayers of salvation for that house and for 'that blessed child'.

She sipped casually, stomaching every molding memory of that night and _those _nights and all the sordid nights in between.

Somebody weighed the couch down next to her. Without looking, she knew it was Kyoya.

He sat with his laptop unfolded on his thighs, transferring information from his black binder into a word document.

"Would you like some tea, Kyoya-kun? I must say, I don't care very much for it."

"It is masala chai, tea brewed with Indian spices and herbs. It is a part of today's theme." His eyes never left the computer screen.

"Drink it."

"No, thank yo- stop. Don't force me, you'll spill and _you_ will pay for this laptop."

Setsuko giggled and resigned to sipping it herself. He had sounded annoyed but as she side-glanced at him, his lips curved upward and were squirming, as if struggling against a smile. He managed to drown it out with a particularly nasty scowl which he directed at Tamaki, who had taken to commanding people as a self-proclaimed 'maharaja'.

Feeling her own smile spread, bulldozing through the residue of those horrible memories fresh from her mind, Setsuko rested her head on Kyoya's angular shoulder. His body went rigid, then relaxed in the next instant.

In truth, Ootori Kyoya and Emmet Greer were not alike. Setsuko had tried to search for parallels in the two men but there had been none.

Nevertheless, the way that Kyoya made her feel reminded her very much of the way Emmet used to before time eroded the urgency of her love for him; love that would always remain but as a mere whisper.

As it was, Kyoya made her silly.

He made her dizzy.

He made her measure herself against the door frame each morning, then again in the evening.

Sometimes he made her smile.

Sometimes he made her laugh.

But sometimes he made her sick. Sick with anger, sick with tiredness, sick of _him__, _and sick with being sick and so _unsure_.

It had been so for the past couple months, swerving from one extreme to the next so violently that she was no longer certain where silly ended and where sick began. She often confused silly for dizzy, then dizzy for sick, then sometimes mistook unsure for tiredness. Naturally, all the confusion wound her right back at dizzy, which distorted into nausea_, _which really only lead to exhaustion.

In short, Kyoya exhausted her to a ridiculous and humiliating extent and she wanted nothing more than to be released from all of those pitiful emotions.

It had not been at all how Haruhi made her feel. Haruhi did not give her rollercoaster-woozy feelings.

Haruhi gave Setsuko little smiley feelings and little feelings like she wanted to buy more teddy-bears or eat tangerines. It was a strange feeling, a sweet feeling, but it was not love. It was a crush that, since Tamaki, was quietly dying. Not love. She knew. Love felt like Emmet Greer. Love felt like shit. Like flaming shit.

_So, that poses the question, Abukara Setsuko, _a cynical little voice at the back of her head pointed out. _Does that mean you're in love with Ootori Kyoya?_

She hoped not.

Setsuko sighed with a quaver and nestled her head into the crook of Kyoya's neck, feeling his bodily warmth radiating against her skin. She listened to the sounds of Kyoya creating a human symphony; his swallowing, his breath hastening slightly, his pulse from beneath his jaw.

Setsuko closed her eyes.

A piano melody flooded into her mind, so familiar...

* * *

><p><em>She was ten years old.<em>

_Her fingers hovered above the keys until the crowd fell into complete silence. Then, counting herself in under her breath, her fingers moved up and down the keys with agility. She played Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, the arrangement she had been practicing relentlessly for a month, Emmet Greer by her side. Tonight, her father's Christmas banquet, was her premiere; though her heart was violently drumming against her ribcage, rattling her body, her fingers stayed steady as stone. Soon enough, though, the crowd surrounding her in the banquet hall seemed to dissipate and it was only her. She swayed her neck with her hands as if they were attached by invisible threads, rocking back and forth with the music through it's runs and crescendos._

_Even the curious and excited murmurs that blazed like wildfire all around her could not break her concentration. The only important things in the world, now, were black, and white, and rectangular._

_When she finished, she stood from the piano bench to bow and was met with a thunderous applause that crashed in from every which way. Even with the glaring spotlight half-blinding her, she could still spot her mother and her father clapping furiously beside an elderly man who Setsuko knew to be a higher-up in the Abukara conglomerate and his wife. Just behind them stood Emmet._

_When finally the main light shone again, Setsuko was met with a barrage of men and women coming over to congratulate her._

_"My dear, that was fabulous!" One woman cried. "How ever did you learn to play that way?"_

_"I have marvelous teachers, ma'am," she replied quietly._

Just be polite, _she coached herself. _And flash your jewelry.

_One thing that Setsuko had surmised after attending so many business parties was that the objective seemed to be to look as 'valuable' as possible._

_The men donned their highest-grade suits made from imported threads from around the globe, with long coat-tails and velvet top-hats. They brought jewel-studded canes and polished black loafers. However, women were much worse. Women enswathed themselves with gold and silver; they wore glittering floor length dresses and about a dozen rings and they hung diamond-encrusted necklaces that sat upon their fat bosoms as cherished treasure, only to be admired and judged alike. Their hair was moulded into perfect beehives on the tops of their heads, big and round with crystal brooches and baubles._

_These women, she knew, were considered to be very beautiful but Setsuko did not agree for the majority of them. There were a select few with naturally handsome faces who wore only light make-up and simple dresses. Those women were very pretty, she thought. _

_The others, however, seemed to be rather oddly shaped. Half of them were tall and lanky with muscles in strange places. These women appeared not to have eaten for several days with hollow stomachs and stringy noodle legs that were jointed with knobbly knees and ankles. Their cheeks were nothing but wrinkly depressions in their faces, they had hook noses and their eyes seemed to be like the slits of a serpent as they stared down at the world, at Setsuko, with their derisive inspection. These women simply wore frowns as they craned their vulture-like necks left and right._

_The other half of women were shaped like great, big beachballs that we who sort of waddled alongside their husbands. These were the particularly wealthy women, born into a world of money. They were stocky with little chubby hands and bitty chubby fingers. They gobbled and gossiped under a light-hearted pretense but wouldn't hesitate to turn and whisper, cruel, cruel things from behind their corpulent hands and forearms._

_Other women were much too plain to notice; rather, they did not wear their most extravagant dresses and expensive jewelry and were, therefore, irrelevant in the world of the rich._

_Setsuko was careful to abide by the rules._

_She had chosen a shimmering periwinkle dress with a white faux-fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her yellow hair cascaded down her back, her natural ringlets enhanced with sparkling gels and half a can of aerosol-can hairspray. On her head was placed an opal crystal tiara glistening like a frosty crown of ice._

_Yuuji and Maria broke through the crowd to stand by their daughter. "Darling you did wonderfully," said Maria._

_"We're proud of you, Setsuko-chan," Yuuji gushed._

_Maria was neither fat nor sickeningly skinny. Maria and Setsuko were almost duplicates, the only difference was that of Maria's hair. She was a platinum blonde with lively curls and the same sapphire eyes as her daughter; her cheeks had a youthful flush and her body was the same, unmarred by age, a woman's pitiless enemy._

_She was one of the beautiful ones. __She was tonight, at least._

_Maria clung to Yuuji's right arm, careful to flaunt the twinkling stone of her finger._

_The men and women then projected on the two of them. "Yuuji, your daughter is positively splendid. You have to share your secrets!"_

_He chuckled and shook his head. "Please. They're not my secrets at all. Setsuko is Mr. Greer's protégée."_

_This made Setsuko shiver with excitement. She was Mr. Greer's _protégée. She's was Mr. Greer's.__

__At this, Maria summoned Emmet from the back row of the crowd. He cut through, his mouth squiggling in an apprehensive smile and his cheeks flaring with red. He was dressed in a full tuxedo and bow tie, his glossy hair pulled back into a low ponytail as usual.__

__"This is Mr. Emmet Greer, Setsuko's private tutor," Maria gestured. "I must say, he's quite the genius himself."__

_The confidence in his smile swelled as he looked at Maria. "You don't need to go that far, Miss. Maria."_

_"Nonsense! It will interest you all to know that Mr. Greer here is only twenty years old."_

_There was an outburst of impressed chattering among the mass of people._

_"Miss. Maria, you really give me too much credit."_

_The way that Emmet smiled at Maria repulsed Setsuko. It was the teeth. The fully-exposed teeth._

_Yuuji didn't notice anything. The way that Emmet smiled, the way Maria batted her eyelashes. Perhaps he did. Perhaps his own guilt overshadowed it. Either way, Setsuko _loathed _it._

_"Darling," Yuuji bent down to whisper in her ear. "It's getting late. Do you think it may be time for you to go to sleep?"_

_"Yes, father."_

_"Should I put you to bed?"_

_Warmness spread in her chest at her father's genuine expression. "No, it's your party, father. I can put myself to bed."_

_She left the hall and headed for her bedroom. She truly was exhausted._

_She trudged sluggishly up the stairs and once she got to her room, she slipped into a knee-length satin nightgown, removed her make-up with the sanitary remover pads and sat at the vanity, sweeping her brush through her locks ninety-seven times before the latch on her door clicked._

_Emmet peered around the door, skimming the room before his eyes landed on Setsuko._

_"There you are," he said. "I didn't get a chance to speak to you."_

_She froze. Setsuko wished she weren't in her night clothes, wished she hadn't taken off her make-up._

_Emmet entered the room and stood behind her immobilized body, eyeing her in the mirror. "You did amazingly."_

_"Thank you..." she uttered through her clenched teeth. "I thought I was going to slip up. I was so nervous."_

_"I wasn't."_

_"No?"_

_"I knew you were going to do well," Emmet confessed. "After all, I had a dream about it."_

_Setsuko giggled. "Don't be silly, Sir."_

_"It's true, don't you know? Sometimes dreams can be premonitions. They may be messages of the future implanted in your mind to warn you, or to remind you that the future is still bright. That's what I believe. Anyway, dreams are a part of you, you know? They're projections of your subconscious; they are what your inner-mind holds and what can be more real than that? Your conscious mind is impressionable, a temperamental thing you can manipulate in any way you or an outsider pleases. Your subconscious is hardly touched by outside forces _— it's one-hundred-percent 'you'. It's what you want. It's what you're made of. So, I do put a fair amount of faith into dreams..."__

_Emmet had a distant look in his eyes. His hands were wandering absentmindedly, smoothing the knots in her hair. Setsuko's breathing snagged as his finger accidentally grazed the nape of her neck._

_"Sir, you were rambling again..."_

_He seemed to return to his body but did not stop touching her hair. "So I was! How annoying of me! Forgive me, Setsuko!"_

_She laughed a shivering laugh and diverted her face from the mirror. It was beet red._

_"But you know, I do dream about you. I dreamt about tonight, and you being fantastic. And I dream about you growing past four foot five and becoming much smarter than me. Sometimes I'm a very old man and you're a young woman and you still remind me when I'm being annoying," he whispered. "And your husband will have won a Nobel prize. A Pulitzer, at the very least."_

_His hands left her head. "But anyway, that's very far away. Who knows? You might not even grow that tall. You could legally be a dwarf."_

_"Sir!"_

_"I'm joking," he yawned. "But if you _do _want to grow, you'll need to sleep now. Goodnight, Setsuko... Congratulations."_

_As he left the room, Setsuko clambered into her bed and pulled the covers up to chin-level, drilling holes into the mass of white ceiling above her with her eyes. She had never given much thought to dreams. They were simply shapes and colours that occasionally sailed through sleep and darkness and disappeared minutes after waking._

Sir is wrong this time, _she thought. It didn't make any sense._

_Her dreams consisted of nonsense._

_Setsuko dreamt of creaky rocking-chairs and laundry machines with swirling loads of soggy clothes. She dreamt of curly ink handwriting. She dreamt of orange tabby cats, teasing her, leaving her lost in the wake of stripes upon stripes and emerald eyes and furry tufts of white. Setsuko dreamt of half-eaten apples and fully peeled oranges, smelling the citrusy spritz of them._

_Did that mean she was made of utter rubbish?_

_It didn't make any sense..._

_Either way, as Setsuko gently shut her eyes and slid into sleep, she hoped that she could dream of Emmet Greer. _Tonight, _she prayed. _Tonight. I want to be made of him... I want to dream of Sir...

_And it was seventeen days later when she finally did._

* * *

><p><em>She was eleven years old.<em>

_She huddled under the kitchen table, bringing her ashen knees ever closer to her chest. The screeches were almost inhuman; they pervaded the air with no spaces between one and the next. There was a racket, something large smashing against the floor. A furious tangle of noise, of screams, of cursing._

* * *

><p>Setsuko felt the muscles in her hand go limp and she tried to regain a firm grasp on her tea. A droplet lapped out of the side and she quickly set it down before the whole thing spilled. She knew that it would not evade Kyoya's hawk-eyes. She could almost feel their searing stare against her hand as it dangled off her wrist, languid.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"You fuckin' dirty liar!" she shrieked. "Thas' all you know how to do isn't it...? Isn't it? Don' touch me! Don'touch me, you dirty, cheating liar! You fucking-"<em>

_"Don't you talk to _me _that way! I'm not the only one goddamn lying in this marriage! You said this would stop! You told me this would never happen again! Do you think I want to see you like this? Do you think Setsuko does? Maria! Look at me!"_

_There came a chuckling, low and guttural and deranged. A few more thuds resounded, heavy stumbling footsteps against the hardwood. A sound of glass clattering. Setsuko breathing halted. "So what... so what am'I suppose' to do..." her voice was quiet, but began building again with ferocity. "you... you! You're supposed to be there for me! You're supposed to be there for me so I don't _have_ to fuckin' do this everyday of my shitty life! You're ruining everything, Yuuji!"_

_An ear-splitting shatter stabbed at Setsuko's ears. She pulled herself into a tighter ball, trying to squeeze her body into nonexistence. Then, Maria's raving and bawling ripped through the air._

_"Get your hands off of me! Get them off! Stop it! Yuuji! Yuuji! Don't touch me!"_

* * *

><p>She tried focusing on Kyoya. On the silliness, on the sickness, on the unsure-ness <em><em>— <em>_anything other than that memory.

"Setsuko-san."

She pulled her face from his neck. "Yes?"

* * *

><p><em>Maria's muffled sobs tolled through the halls as tortured bells muzzled by the fabric of Yuuji's shirt. Then, in the next moment, they rose even higher in a whirl of rage and the sound of landing punches.<em>

_"I told you, don' _touch _me!"_

_This time when he spoke, he was apologetic, apparently surrendering to Maria as she could not be subdued __—__ not like this. "Honey, please. I'm sorry... just please go to sleep now... we can talk about this in the morning."_

_"No... no! No, I don't wan' sleep! I wan'na see Teddy!" she demanded. "Teddy! Teddy!" Maria howled into the emptiness, her sobs tore through her throat, breaking up her speech. "Where is Teddy?"_

_"Ted can't be here... you know that."_

_She groused quietly, sniffling. "You control ev'rything... I can' see Teddy! I can' do anything!"_

_Yuuji stammered. "Maria! Think about Setsuko, goddamn it! Do you want her around that kind of man? For God sake, he's-!"_

_"Don't talk about Teddy like that! I'll kill you, Yuuji!"_

_"Please, Maria, please! I'm sorry, please just go to sleep tonight. I'm begging you. I'm sorry."_

_Yuuji made a choking sound. He inhaled sharply and cursed. He was crying._

_Setsuko couldn't withstand anymore. She had only gotten out of bed for a glass of milk. She had no idea she would be trapped in the kitchen. She was cold, she was scared but more than anything, she was tired._

_She knew that it would be risky, but she needed to leave._

* * *

><p>"You look as though you are thinking about something unpleasant."<p>

She pressed her lips together. It wasn't so _frightening_ now, she thought. In fact, it felt all very silly, hiding under the kitchen table for God knows how long. Her sixteen-year-old self was relieved, relieved that the fear of _that _night and _those _nights had perished when she left Poughkeepsie. It was now merely an 'unpleasant' something.

"Yes. Unpleasant, indeed. Are you worried, Kyoya-kun?" she jested. "Is this a love confession at long last?"

"No. I was merely wondering why you look so ill at the moment."

_Ill?_

* * *

><p><em>She left the refuge of the kitchen table, her body stiped with the rectangular-shaped strips of light gleaming in from the gaps in the curtains. She crept along the floor on hands and knees, pressing herself lower and lower to the floor as she approached the entrance hall. <em>

_Her extremities wobbled as she undexterously ambled along the cold hardwood. She strained to keep her breath shallow but her heart thumped painfully and her lungs felt as though they were being stretched, like a flimsy rubber balloon being filled with stones. _

Everything _painful __—__ breathing, blinking, the bruising of her knees._

_Setsuko was out of the kitchen now and could see her parents now. Her father was begging with hands clasped together, asking in whispers for her to be quiet and to think of 'Dear Setsuko'. It was dark. Only the flickering light of candles hung on the wall lit the scene. Even in such dark, Setsuko could see purplish-red lesions on Yuuji's neck and his collarbone, disappearing into his white shirt; buttons had been ripped off, she saw. Little wilted threads hung from where they used to be while the buttons themselves were discarded on the floor._

_Next to the buttons was a lamp. Setsuko's very favorite lamp, an antique with glass like the iridescent panes of a church, destroyed on the floor._

_Maria was pressed against the wall, evidently revolted by Yuuji. Her clothes had a few rips and were drooping on her emaciated body. She had lost that youthful flush. Her entire body was pallid and tarnished with little bruises and scars. She had lost the lively curls which now lay lifeless and oily on her head. Maria had wasted away. _

_In the past year, things for her had gone_ horribly _wrong. A bottle a night, two for every night that Yuuji stayed out passed 10:00._

_She cried for herself._

_And Yuuji cried for her._

_And he cried of self-loathing._

_And Setsuko cried for them both._

_Because they were crushing themselves with their love for the other._

_"Don' beg me... don'... you're pathetic, Yuuji! And you make me pathetic__! I'm pathetic for loving you 'cause you're a sick fuck! Why can' I jus' be fucking enough for you? Why do you need them...? Th-those... wo-women-n?"_

_Though both of them were crying, Setsuko could hear her father very softly praying into his knuckles. Maybe pleading for God to bring morning sooner. Maybe pleading for forgiveness. Maybe pleading for God to release him from his compulsive need; his illness._

_Setsuko's eyes became blurry with tears and in that second her hand met with something jagged and it punctured the skin on her palm. A fragment of glass from the lamp. Before she could stop herself, she yelped at the sharpness. Her stomach gave a lurch._

* * *

><p>"Why, how strange," she said. "I don't feel ill at all. Perhaps this tea is unsettling my insides."<p>

Kyoya gazed down at her over his thin-rimmed spectacles, his gray almond-shaped eyes thinning. "You're lying."

* * *

><p><em>Horror mangled Yuuji's tear-stained face, gleaming with sweat in the light of the candelabra mounted on the wall. Maria swayed, her head lolling from bony shoulder to bony shoulder. As she beheld Setsuko crawling on the floor, terror-stricken, an anger possessed her that made her face contort.<em>

_"What are you doing out of bed?" Maria roared, stomping over with arms outstretched, staggering and smashing into furniture, rabid. Setsuko screamed and jumped to her feet, bounding for the stairs._

_"Maria NO!" her father yelled._

_"Get back here!"_

_Setsuko tripped over the third step and thumped the entire way back down, toward her mother. "Mom, no! No! Please!"_

_Maria struck her, back-handed, across the jaw, her nails scraping the side of her cheek. As soon as the smack landed, Maria was restrained as she screeched at Setsuko ("Go to BED! GO! Leave! Go upstairs NOW!"). Yuuji had his arms wrapped tightly around her from the back, wrestling her to floor._

_"Go upstairs, Setsuko. Go!"_

_She didn't wait another moment. Setsuko sprang off her heels and scampered up the stairs, toppling at the last step, and careened down the hallway into her room. She slammed the door. She dashed into bed, burying herself underneath heaps of blankets and pillows._

_Her jaw felt hot and swollen. It would bruise._

_Setsuko coiled herself into a ball and heavy-heartedly listened as he begged, crying out her name over and over ___—__ Maria, Maria, how could you, Maria?__

__She, an eleven-year-old girl, shut her eyes against the pain and prayed for morning.__

* * *

><p>"My, my~! What an accusation. I suppose you have evidence?"<p>

"Of course, I do," replied Kyoya. "You're a compulsive liar. I feel that is fairly adequate."

She offered a smile. "Yes, I suppose that is sufficient reasoning. However, compared to last night, I'm afraid it's sub-par. You were a regular Sherlock Holmes."

Setsuko nuzzled her face between his neck and shoulders once more, wanting his comfort to last longer.

Perhaps it _was _still frightening. A _little _frightening. That, however, in itself, was frightening. Setsuko thought that if that memory was one that would never die, she would sooner drink a pint of acid then relive it over and over in the same nightmarish shades of red and gray.

But a small part of her felt that it _would _die. It was probably the same part of her that was still trying to sponge up every second with Kyoya; all the silliness and the dizziness and the sickness and the smell of his cologne and how it was especially strong on his neck where his skin was so comfortably soft and where the very tips of his hair tickled her like the downy ends of a feather.

Yes.

_That _part of her knew there was still hope.

* * *

><p><em>Setsuko was fifteen years old.<em>

_The performance house was really spectacular. Citizens declared that Abukara Yuuji had outdone himself on it. It was not solely a theatre, of course, as the name suggested. ____—__ THE ABUKARA ART INSTITUTE OF POUGHKEEPSIE. Down a flight of stairs, there was a dance studio wallpapered with mirrors. On the second floor was a unit of classrooms in which there were community art classes and where the 'Shooting Stars', children who aspired in theatrical arts, had their biweekly meetings.___

_Setsuko danced there._

_On that massive stage._

_She had just finished taping her toes together and wrapping a stretchy band around the arch of her foot when she put on her ballet slippers and began to rehearse the number from Sleeping Beauty, in which she played the Lilac Fairy._

_She elegantly leapt across the stage with ease, keeping her form firm, flexing every muscle and stretching every limit. She was in mid-pirouette when she spotted a face among the assembly of empty seats._

_He sat front and center._

_A cigarette was wedged between his forefinger and middle finger; his nails were stubby and yellowing. He inhaled through chapped lips then let long, gray sashes of malodorous smoke billow out._

_"I've always like to watch you dance."_

_Setsuko stopped twirling. She paced backward, away from the man._

_"Uncle Ted..."_

_"Too bad I can't make it for recitals," he said in his granular voice. "Not as if I'm invited anyway."_

_She inched further away still. "I apologize..."_

_Theodore examined her for a few seconds, taking a few long drags from his cigarette. He then shrugged and relaxed himself against the back of his seat, spread-eagle. He groaned softly, shifting, but never took his eyes of her._

_"It's been a bit more than a year, huh."_

_She did not reply._

_"You haven't bothered to go see her," Theodore said. "I guess that's what she gets for raising a child... that is not even hers. Ungratefulness. Maria's real upset."_

_Setsuko swallowed and gathered her nerve. "She. Does. Not..." she countered sternly. "Have. Visitation rights. Okay?"_

_"Neither do I. But I still come to see you dance, don't I?"_

* * *

><p><em>She was fifteen years old.<em>

_And she was about to leave everything she ever knew._

_But it was still very anti-climatic. Somehow, standing in the naked mansion around her did not evoke any sentimental feelings. Everything around her, bare, with no evidence other than the holes in the walls where screws and nails had been hammered in to hang portraits. Not even the nursery, destitute of a single Barbie, could make her feel._

_It did hurt, though, when they stood at the front door with Emmet Greer._

_He was his regular self, although that morning, he had been slightly timid. Even at the moment, he had his hands shoved in his pockets and was nudging small pebbles with the tip of his shoe._

_Setsuko had grown past four foot five._

_She had grown into a woman._

_And now they were saying goodbye._

_Emmet grinned and offered _his hand for a handshake._. "Setsuko. It's been my pleasure to teach you all these years. Honestly. I have truly treasured... treasured... uhh..."_

_"Thank you, Sir. For everything."_

_Setsuko did not shake hands with him. She felt she would crumble if she touched him._

_"It's hard to believe that it's over," he said between weak chuckles. "There's still more to learn..."_

_"Yes. There is plenty. But I'm sure you can manage without me."_

_Emmet laughed and combed his hand through his chestnut hair. "Yes, I think I can."_

_She gnawed on her bottom lip to keep from weeping. "From now on, you'll have more students. Smarter students, Sir. The thought should be utterly thrilling for-"_

_She didn't finish her sentence; Emmet had snatched her by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug. For the first time, Setsuko felt the body that she had been admiring for so long held against her, unyielding, pulsating with his every breath. She sunk into it, powerless, and about as sturdy as a glob of jelly. _

_"You don't need to call me Sir anymore."_

__Tears brimmed over her eyelids and she shed them, the tiny pools of heartache. _"But Si-"_

_"Please. Emmet. The next time you see me... call me Emmet."_

_When they parted, Setsuko felt she could no longer stand on her own two feet. They were too weak. Too _weak _to walk; too weak to go to Japan._

_But somehow..._

_they did._

* * *

><p><em>"Ne, Setsuko-chan."<em>

_"Yes, father?"_

_His sly eyes peeked at her in the rear-view mirror. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. "So you've finally met Kyoya-kun, hmm? I really love him~! Kyoya-kun... is like my own son. Known him since he was a baby! What about you? What did you think about him?"_

_Setsuko conjured up the image of him in her head and thought and thought and thought..._

_"He was..." she breathed. "cute."_

* * *

><p>AN: That was mad long... A review would be really nice! Thank you!


	14. Eggs and Oysters

A/N: The last chapter was super long. Wow, I did not know I had that in me. Well, anyway, thanks for everything, people who read and people who reviewed! I'm so grateful! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

* * *

><p>Chapter 13: Eggs and Oysters<p>

Kyoya was getting less sleep than ever.

The Ootori Group's twenty year anniversary was fast approaching.

The party was to be hosted in an Abukara banquet hall in one of Yuuji's hotels. One had to admit that this hotel was impressive in all respects. Yuuji was notorious for combining many aspects of the Enterprise into one and this hotel was no different; the inside was complete with not only the banquet hall, but a spa, a recreational swimming pool and a theatre. Needless to say, the complimentary bottle of wine per room was supplied by his own line as well.

When he arrived in Japan, Yuuji would stay in the grand penthouse suite for a couple nights, then retreat back to the mansion.

Kyoya did not know what that meant for Setsuko. It had not been clarified whether or not she would be staying at the mainhouse and every time he considered asking, the words jammed in his throat and the room would become curiously warm.

Moreover, he had been much too busy to think about it very much.

It was the day before the banquet.

The weeks preceding had been spent in preparation, mostly by him.

This was, of course, his strong suit. He found fulfillment in thoroughness, in controlling every aspect of every event from every angle and this banquet was practically the putty in his hands that he moulded into excellence. He had arranged everything from the table centerpieces to the lighting to the colour of roses that the ushers would hold in their breast-pockets. He knew the menu backwards and upside down; every appetizer and every entree. The week previous, Kyoya had even booked an orchestra to perform for the entirety of the party.

He had already drawn up schedules and diagrams for the staff, where they were to be and when they were to be there. The Hosts were among the waiting staff but were to entertain the guests by whatever means possible.

The only detail left was the Hosts themselves and the tailoring of their uniforms.

The shipment had just come in and they were busying themselves in the Third Music Room after club hours, fitting themselves.

Kyoya stepped out of the changing area and surveyed himself in the full-body mirror.

The uniform was complete with a pair of high-rise trousers, suspenders, a black vest to be worn with a black dress shirt and a satiny tie the colour of champagne. He flattened out of the fabric with his hands fanned out, leaving not one ruffle untouched.

"Wow."

He met eyes with her through the mirror. "What?"

"The clothes. They're very... befitting," she decided. "You, that is."

Just as he was about to reply, he heard the rings of the curtains in the changing area scrape against the metal bar suspending them. It was often easy to forget that they were not alone. "This is surely your field of expertise, Setsuko-san, perhaps I should hand the reigns over to you? Do these uniforms need tailoring?" he asked, gesturing to the Hosts who emerged one-by-one from the changing room, all rotating like confused supermodels in their new apparel.

Setsuko, who was lazing on the couch on the verge of sleep, scanned each Host.

"They're perfect," she remarked. "Especially on Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai."

Hunny pivoted to face her with a crazed smile. "Eh? Really? Thank you, Setsu-chan~!"

Mori seemed to know that it was wise not to say anything. He just continued to inspect himself in the mirror, tugging at the cuffs.

"They're mostly perfect, that is," she droned. "Actually, I think Tamaki-senpai rather looks like a little boy playing dress-up."

Tamaki, who had been happily admiring his reflection, whirled around and stomped up to her like a blundering ape. He huffed angrily, "Oi, oi, Setsuko-chan! Take it back!"

"Well, you can't blame her for telling the truth!" Hikaru and Kaoru teased in perfect synchronization.

She giggled and shrugged off the sniveling King who continued to yell, "Mou, Setsuko-chan! Look at me! I am a MAN! A man, I tell you!"

"Oh, Tamaki-senpai, you're so easy to tease."

"Well, _you _aren't very ladylike when you're bored, Setsuko-chan."

"How unfortunate," she said. "_You _on the other hand, are _very _ladylike."

He spluttered and made a lunging motion with his arms outstretched and flailing before Hunny jumped on his back with a strangling grip around his chest. "Tama-chan, no, don't _hurt _her! Haru-chan, help!"

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "N-no, I would rather not get involved in this."

"Your highness," Hikaru chided. "Ladies do not fight."

Kaoru wagged his index finger. "Yes, and _please _close your legs!

"Y-you two... pests!" Tamaki growled and brandished his fists at the twins. "I swear, if I ever get my hands on one of you..."

Without further notice of Tamaki, Setsuko shifted her gaze among each boy. It made Kyoya uncomfortable to watch her covetous blue eyes devour Hikaru and Kaoru, moving together in perfect harmony like pendulums, mocking the King. What with their roguish orange hair and amber eyes gleaming with unspeakable mischief, it was no wonder why Setsuko was charmed by them. The twins. Being playful. Grinning, taunting, giving her identically smoldering glances.

They found amusement in seducing her, he knew, because she was amusing to seduce, in general.

_Did I just think that?_

Kyoya froze, half-stupefied.

_Why did I think such a thing? Such... stupidity._ Surprised at his own vulgarity, he tried to avert his thoughts from such a tactless, teenager subject. He grabbed his black binder from a nearby stool and scribbled in the corner of an order form that the uniforms were taken care of. He tapped the lead of his pencil on the sheet distractedly, hoping that there was something, anything left to accomplish.

When he discovered that there was not, he had no choice but to think.

To think about Setsuko, to think about seducing Setsuko, and to think about a mansion somewhere in the white-picket suburbs with pretty little decorative shrubs on the front lawn, perfectly suitable for a teenaged girl to live...

* * *

><p>She fell asleep on the drive home. She was slumped against Kyoya's right shoulder which caused everything from the elbow down to go numb. Aoi watched from the rear-view mirror, smirking a sharp-fanged smirk. It was condescending — it was knowing. That smirk, the small sound of her mouth-breathing from below and the decorative shrubs all made Kyoya unreasonably hot and irritated.<p>

When they arrived at the mainhouse, needless to say, she was groggy and ill-mannered when forced to get out of the car; of course, not before begging for Kyoya to carry her to bed, to which he responded by pulling her hair until she surrendered.

When they entered the building, strangely, the maids and butlers were standing in neat array in the entrance hall yet not speaking a word. A couple of the women were muttering indistinctly, giggling girlishly. It was most queer as they normally only took that formation when a guest arrived at the house.

"My, my, I don't have the energy for this," said Setsuko nonchalantly. "I'm taking a nap."

She shuffled up the stairs leaving Kyoya in the middle of two columns of servants, each lowered into a bow.

_Who is visiting?_ he was about to ask when suddenly, the doors of the dining room flew open with a bang.

"Ky-ooo-yaa-kun!"

_Good God._

A cheerful, full-faced Yuuji came bounding out of the dining room with his arms thrown out like the wings of an airplane. He looked healthier than the last time Kyoya saw him and was much more bubbly, as he sometimes annoyingly was. His salt-and-pepper hair was slipshod as usual, lopping to the left in starched spikes today, and he was drowning in his suit. A thin beard of shabby stubble layered his chin and upper-lip, which was quite abnormal, although Kyoya doubted that it was anything serious. There was always something troubling Yuuji and that was no mystery, what with his twitching and paranoid gazes.

All in all, despite the odd neurotic shiver, Yuuji appeared quite handsome that afternoon.

"Yuuji-san, I-"

"I've missed you!" he exclaimed as he scooped Kyoya into a spine-crushing hug. "It's been over two months. I've missed my boy!"

_So, he's in this kind of mood,_ thought Kyoya sourly. Yuuji generally had two moods: overjoyed and depressive. _I'm not sure which I prefer._

"Ah, please, Yuuji-san. It hasn't been so long," he chuckled. "I assume you've had a pleasurable trip?"

"Hmm... it was nice." Yuuji did not release his grip yet. It was strange, in fact, how long he remained with Kyoya. His cling was somewhat... desperate. Finally, however, they parted. "Yes. Yes, Kyoya-kun, it was very nice. I suspect the new line of wine should be released very soon. You're not twenty yet, are you? Aha, no, not yet. No matter, I'll make sure you have a proper taste in advance, we'll keep it a nice little secret."

"Yuuji," a man's voice beckoned. Yoshio rounded the corner. He was visibly weary. "Are you pestering people again?"

Yuuji looked affronted. "Why, Yo-san. We were just catching up. I'm not used to being away from Kyoya for so long."

"Don't speak nonsense, before six months ago, the two of you lived on different continents."

"And now I've gone and spoilt myself, I've had too much of this gorgeous boy and I need more," he ruffled Kyoya's hair. "When I think of how we used to live! Only seeing each other once every two or three months! Oh, the heart aches."

Yoshio sighed and seemed drained, defeated. Yuuji was the only man that Kyoya knew who could exhaust his father that way. He couldn't help but be reminded of himself and Tamaki. A small, secret piece of him wished to one day be the same as Yuuji and his father: two men who had shared their youth together and who would share their adulthood together and would most likely share their elder days together. Then again, that same piece of him knew that that would probably result in several heart attacks and possibly a premature death. There was something about an eighty-something year old Tamaki drag racing in a wheelchair at an old folk's home that said 'stress'.

"Now, Yuuji-san," said Kyoya. "I'm sure there is one person more interesting in this house that you would much rather see."

His eyes widened. "Setsuko-chan! She's here? I didn't hear her-"

"You must have been too preoccupied with Kyoya," jabbed Yoshio before apparently deciding that this conversation was a waste of time and stalking away in the direction of his office.

"Where is Setsuko-chan?"

"I'm afraid she is currently taking a nap. She often has afternoon fatigue. High school is certainly taking some adjusting."

Yuuji seemed to be frozen for a moment, then he abruptly turned away, nodding slowly. "Yes. Quite. That... that would be true. Come, Kyoya-kun. Would you mind lending an old man your ear for a short while?"

Seeing that his mood had completely reversed, Kyoya complied. As they were walking away, Yuuji signaled to the servants. "Oh, please, if one of you doesn't mind. Please, uhh, keep my daughter company while she sleeps."

"I hardly think Setsuko will find it easy to escape the premises with the amount of security we've buffed up. My father provided the means to establish quite the developed system. Nobody leaves this building without notification."

He seemed largely relieved by this. "Thank you, but please, I would like somebody to accompany her. It would give me peace of mind."

The servant named Mei hustled up the stairs. Kyoya couldn't help but feel insulted.

_Yuuji doubts our security system, the one that I developed, the same security that my father reinforced,_ he thought._ He doubts that I've been capable of chaperoning Setsuko._

"Of course. Should we walk?"

The two of them left the foyer to stroll the house. It was not apparent as to why Yuuji wished to speak to Kyoya because so far, he had only been regarding the artwork in the house. He made little mumbling comments and asked little questions about the artist which were all meaningless and increasingly repetitive as they moved along the hallways aimlessly. Despite his quietness, Yuuji did not seem to be in his other mood, rather just deep in reflection.

They had wandered all the way to the billiards room, otherwise known as the 'Men's Room', as Fuyumi had often referred to it. The room held the memories of many business deals being sealed by Yoshio himself. The heavy stench of cigarette smoke had impregnated the red velvet walls as well as every sofa cushion. Mounted on the wall were antlers and caribou heads and also a cabinet stocked with bottles brandy and scotch. There were two sets of billiards tables, each beneath a tawny light hanging from the ceiling.

Yuuji eased himself down into a chair. "What a godawful game, billiards. Why do men need to shoot pool, shoot balls on a table with a long stick, to feel like men? Yo-san, probably doesn't care for it much either..."

What a pointless thing to discuss. "Yes, but it is the favourite game of-"

"Amos Andrews. Mr. Andrews owns a physiotherapy practice that he considers integrating with the Ootori hospitals and clinics. He has several times played an exterior consultant and would be genuinely appreciated and greatly rewarded in long term if he decided to merge with the Ootori Group, straight from the Yo-san's mouth."

Kyoya smiled. "Indeed."

"Ah, well. I do my homework," Yuuji quipped. "Anyway, I'm certain you're annoyed by the fact that I've asked to speak with you for no apparent reason..."

"Not at all."

Yuuji quirked an eyebrow. "Kyoya-kun. You're almost as good as your father when it comes to concealment. Almost."

He leaned back in the chair and inhaled deeply as if the stink of smoke weren't putrid. "It's nothing serious, Kyoya-kun. I just... I just wanted to know how everything has been in regards to Setsuko-chan."

"I understand. Is there anything you would like to know specifically?"

The old man looked as though he may spurt a thousand different things at once. He settled for a humble grin as he said, "Anything you can think of should suffice."

Kyoya found himself resisting a chuckle. "Please be easy, Yuuji-san. She has been monitored almost constantly. She has a GPS chip on her person at all times installed in her cellphone. She has never left the house unattended nor has she been engaging in any inappropriate activities."

_I jumped on your daughter and let her kiss my neck until it was raw._

Yuuji swallowed. "Excellent. So, she has never been out alone?"

"I am with her every possible second."

_She ran away from me at a party. I also let her go shopping. She spent all your money. On teddy bears._

"And she hasn't spoken to anybody suspicious? Any men?"

"No."

_Two massive boys at a beach._

The lies were spilling out easily but when Kyoya thought about the boys at the beach, something in the back of his mind was urging to tell Yuuji. It somehow felt important. Then again, what use would it be? She hadn't been taken. Kyoya could hardly see the point, he barely remembered the faces of the boys; they were great big orgres with moronic grins, that was all... perhaps one was a redhead... yes, definitely...

For the first time since he arrived, Yuuji was motionless, no longer shifting in his paranoia. "Good. Good... Well, do you know anything... besides those things?" he asked. "Then again, I suppose not. After all, it was not your duty to know _more_ than those things... I-I'm sorry."

Kyoya leaned against the billiards table. "I've done my duty efficiently, Yuuji-san. If there is anything else you would like to know...?"

"Anything. Er, everything."

_Everything._ Kyoya massaged the bridge of his nose._ If I were to divulge everything that I know about Abukara Setsuko, we would be in this billiards room for a very long time. We would possibly die of starvation._

It was true. He knew many things about Setsuko, but to name each one of them consecutively, to talk about everything she definitely was and everything she certainly wasn't would be long and grueling, in more ways than one. Because, as it had been for about two months, Setsuko was everything.

That thought alone made him want to vomit or gouge his own eyes out of their sockets but it was undeniable. She had been the first face in the morning and the last face at night. And when exactly had he stopped hating her? He didn't know.

"I'm not sure if any of this information will satisfy your query... Setsuko-san wakes at 6:30 am and regularly goes to sleep at around 10:00 pm, assuming she does not nap in the afternoon, in which case she will be a ball of kinetic energy until midnight. She will not eat any green vegetables, as far as she knows. I have taken the measure of having them minced and disguised in cheese. Incidentally, Setsuko-san likes cheese more than an average person would." _Which is strange._

"Her highest mark is in Biology and the lowest is in Advanced Functions. Since I have started tutoring her, her mark has risen by five percent. Her friends are our mutual friends, the boys from the Host Club," he said, bracing himself in case Yuuji reprimanded him. He did not. "Generally, they are the only others that she contacts with other than the servants from the mainhouse. She has befriended Aoi the chauffeur and Mei-san the maid who braids her hair on Saturday nights, if I refuse."

Kyoya had gotten quite good at braiding hair.

"Other than catching a cold in early May and intaking copious amounts of sweets which I am trying to ween her off of, Setsuko-san is healthy. She has grown half an inch. I've kept tabs on all her medicinal needs. Nothing more than Tylenol and Midol. Furthermore, Setsuko-san's mental health is in good shape. She is happy, mostly, aside from the times when she is bored." _And then she becomes insufferable._

Yuuji had been listening fixedly. A squiggly little smile set in his thin lips and his eyes glinted with tears.

"Yuuji-san?"

"Oh, no, no. Nothing. I'm just glad you've gotten to know Setsuko-chan... are the two of you, err, friends?"

"Friends..." _That is hardly the word._ "Somewhat."

His eyebrows raised in apparent revelation. Yuuji's smile grew wider and there was a sickeningly patronizing quality about it, like he knew something that Kyoya did not. "Somewhat?"

The corner of Kyoya's mouth twitched. "Yes, Yuuji-san."

"Haa. Alright. That's... nice," he breathed. "That's a relief. I was worried she would be lonely."

"No." His throat was seizing as he forced the words out. "No, she hasn't been."

A silence enveloped the room. _Now would be the opportunity to ask if she'll stay,_ he thought. Still, the words were clumps of sand in his throat, too difficult too force.

Just as he thought he would speak, Yuuji did first. "You know, this entire time, I was worried she may..."

The sentence was never finished. Yuuji's neurotic squirming returned with a vengeance. He had the appearance of some bedraggled homeless dog, wheezing slightly. He scratched furiously at his scalp as if he had ticks as he asked in a whisper, "Has she ever... spoken to anybody... uh, that is, specifically, uhh—"

"E-excuse me?"

A small voice peeped at the door. It was Mei who appeared to be slightly out of breath.

"May I help you?" Kyoya stood, annoyed by the fact that they had been interrupted.

"Yes, w-well, uhm, Setsuko-san has w-woken up and she is... angry."

Yuuji stood up immediately. "She's angry?"

"Sh-she wants t-to see her—"

"DADDY!"

She charged into the room and leapt like some jungle animal, propelling herself onto Yuuji, arms thrown around his body and fastened in a vice-like grip, unlikely to ever release. Kyoya did not know that two people could hug for so long.

* * *

><p>It so happened that that was a typical reunion between the father and daughter. In the next instant (after the two of them were wrung from each other's grasp) normality was restored. Setsuko had toned down her attitude, likely because Yoshio entered the billiards room next looking particularly peeved and about fifteen years older.<p>

Setsuko evidently decided that it was necessary to play the role of 'Perfect Daughter' again because she clipped the hair out of her face with that silver brooch and donned a long-sleeved gown that fell to the knee. She asked pleasant questions in a fluid, wispy voice, 'Did you enjoy your trip?' and 'Did you bring back any souvenirs?' It was downright unnerving. After he'd seen what he'd seen, Kyoya thought she looked like a puppet being made to act out a scenario in a show, but inanimate nonetheless.

Eventually, Yoshio was able to dispel all the excitement and insisted that everybody sit down for a dinner.

The dinner was spent with the men discussing the plans for the night following, a discussion led by Kyoya. Yuuji was in awe at his management skills; Kyoya reveled. He gloated about the ice sculptures that were being carved in the image of the Ootori family crest and about the orchestra that was prepared to serenade the guests until dawn.

Setsuko happily listened. She spent half the dinner being carted an endless succession of desserts. The downpour of brownies and apple cinnamon donuts made Kyoya's teeth hurt. Near the end, she was presented with a large glass goblet mounted with three gargantuan scoops of strawberry ice-cream that were ornamented with diamond cut strawberries, a lush pink on the inside. Yuuji scolded, "Now, darling, aren't you eating too many sweets?"

She frowned. "Father, sweets are for celebration and today is a celebration. You've come home. And tomorrow is also a celebration... and_every_day is a celebration of life, thus..."

"Setsuko-chan," he said. "If you have such a mind-set, you'll be obese."

She blinked, her eyes as two hollow, sapphire marbles that were positively gleaming in sadistic amusement. "I don't need to watch my figure... do you think I do, Kyoya-san?" she asked, sucking on a spoon.

_How dare she test me?_ "Not at all, Setsuko-san."_ But if you want to grow more taller than a poodle on it's hind legs than you'll need more milk than what's in that ice-cream._

Setsuko began to look red in the face, stifling laughter.

Later, after everybody departed to their rooms (Yuuji to his car, off to the hotel) Kyoya sat on his bed. Just as the fantasy of sleep seemed to frolic through his mind with a cruel, enchanting promise of downy pillows and thick comfortors, he unfolded his laptop and busied himself with the banquet, double checking that everything was in order. He computed the costs thrice and compared them with the profit the party would surely achieve in long term relations. Just as he began to analyze the seating arrangement diagram, his door creaked open.

He only peaked up from the screen for a moment. It was Setsuko clad in some wholesome pair of pinstriped pajamas, the bottoms of which stopped at her mid-thigh. She skipped gleefully around the bed and toppled onto it behind him.

He noticed an error in the seating floor plan. With furrowed brows, he carefully began rearranging but found that it was turning into a frustrating game of spinning tables. His eyes hurt. He was sleepy. The pillow was as inviting as ever.

Kyoya felt her fingers crawling up his back like nimble spider legs kneading into the painful cricks in his back. He groaned, caught between pain and pleasure. She dug her thumbs into his shoulder blades, twisting harder and harder into his tense muscles.

"I'm busy. Stop."

"Hmm, I think you can afford a short break from micromanaging everything, can't you?"

_Seating arrangements are finished. Double-check the scripts that the guest speakers handed in for their speeches._ "I'm afraid that tonight is the night before the banquet. It is my responsibility to organize it and I'll continue until the last possible moment."

"Who made sure that you would be organizing the banquet?"

"I volunteered."

She gasped dramatically and curtly cried out before collapsing back on the mattress as if the words had savagely slain her. "It's just as I've feared! You're an addict, Mr. Ootori. You'll have to be sent to Work-a-holics anonymous."

"And you'll have to be sent to the mental hospital."

"Do not hide behind your quips," she taunted. "Addiction is nasty. You're a particularly dreadful case."

Kyoya squeezed his cotton-dry eyes. "Is there a reason you've interrupted me? This is very annoying."

Setsuko hummed. He felt a weight being lifted off the mattress. She had wiggled herself to the floor. "Do you know what I've eaten in excess tonight?"

"Calories?"

"Strawberries, Kyoya-kun," she tittered. "Did you know that strawberries are an aphrodisiac?"

"Indeed. So are almonds, asparagus, eggs and oysters."

Setsuko yawned animatedly. "And figs. Figs, of course, because they're shaped like—"

"Are you going anywhere important with this menial conversation?"

She rolled onto her back, staring at him. "Well, I've had too many, haven't I? Strawberries."

Kyoya was struggling to keep his concentration on the guest speaker speeches but they were all horribly monotonous and the light glaring from the computer screen was painful. He seemed to lose his ability to read as the words suddenly became muddled and nonsensical and much less important when compared to sleep and the girl lying on his bedroom floor.

"And so? You have a stomach ache now?"

With her golden hair sprawled out and falling everywhere, Setsuko rolled upright to stare at him, a sultry pout. "Surely, you jest. I doubt even you are so clueless to not recognize one of nature's great callings. All I want is some decent fun, or more preferably, some _in_decent fun. I've been very good recently, isn't that right?"

"More or less."

"Then, don't I deserve a reward?"

"The cookies would be in the kitchen, I imagine. You have permission to eat yourself into a coma."

"How generous," she drawled. "But I would rather eat you."

She was joking. She was teasing him. It was what she most enjoyed when she was bored.

Kyoya forced his eyes upon a speech written by an early sponsor of the Ootori Group. _I feel much pride tonight to behold the success that the Ootori Group has achieved in these past twenty years and... _Setsuko's blonde head was bobbing somewhere near the floor _... the grand attendance tonight can only be credited to Ootori Yoshio, of course, whose charisma as the founder... _She was stretching and exposing every supple curve of her body ... _and all I want to say is ashejbuecseer..._

"I... cannot concentrate..." he muttered irefully to himself.

He skimmed over sentences, two times, three times, four times but nothing was processing. He could hear Setsuko making noises on the floor; mewling moans as she tried to entice him by airily whispering his name, elongated and sing-song, "Ky-ooo-ya-kuun."

_Concentrate, _he warned himself. _Don't be so annoyed by small things._

"Don't make me do it myself."

_Concentrate._

"Let's just have a little quiet fun," she purred playfully, caressing her milky thigh. "Hmm?"

_Concentrate._

"If you would prefer not, I could be very _loud _instead. I wonder what Yoshio-san would think if he heard me? Heard me screaming," Setsuko let out a pleasured shriek. "_your _name?"

He ground his molars so hard they began to hurt. "Shut up."

"Oh, that bothers you?" Setsuko rolled over onto her back, raising her legs into the air. She let out one long, loud, lustful moan which morphed into a satisfied howl like a cat in heat, his name, echoing louder and louder with every time she released it from her lips in gasping breaths.

"Kyoya! Don't stop!"

"Shut—"

"Kyoya. Harde—"

"I said, shut up!"

In the next second, his laptop was strewn on the bed as good as forgotten and he had roughly tossed Setsuko herself on as well. In his blind torrent of irritation mingled with his hotblooded, overwhelming desire, he had somehow ended up hovering over her with his hands restraining her wrists.

"You're. So. Spoiled," he snapped. "You're a brat!"

His lips crashed down onto hers, clumsy and angry, as he forced himself into her mouth and tasted sweet peppermint on her tongue. Setsuko's cry of shock was swallowed into nothingness by his unrelenting kiss. For those long moments, his hands released her wrists, entangled themselves in her yellow hair and drifted along her skin, her flushed cheeks and the smooth, hot flesh beneath her jaw. Finally, he pulled away and gulped for air. Kyoya only resurfaced into sanity when he realized what he had done. A dumbfounded Setsuko lay beneath him.

"Wh-wha..." she uttered breathlessly, incomprehensively.

He got off. She slowly sat up but seemed dizzy in doing do, as if he had knocked her in the skull. He felt dizzy himself. His face was scorching.

_I'm going to be ill._ Setsuko continued to gawp at him and the hints of amusement on her face only aggravated him_. __No... no, I must already be ill._

Kyoya slid away to collect his laptop. He needed fresh air. He needed an open space. He wanted distance from Setsuko, to be somewhere quiet and secluded where he could perhaps smack himself repeatedly on the face or rip out his hair one handful at a time. Still, it wouldn't reverse what had been so thoughtlessly done.

Kyoya felt her eyes as they watched him — hair disheveled, glasses lopsided, tight jawed as he gave himself petty excuses to leave the bed, like storing his laptop and other miscellaneous books that had been lying on the table in some chest of drawers he'd never touched before, and suddenly deciding that his pen collection needed to be organized by classification of colour and manufacturer.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Setsuko impassively lay along the bed and close her eyes. "Mmm. Fascinating."

"... And just _what _is so fascinating?"

"I didn't expect that reaction at all," she purred. "The kissing I mean, everything else is rather ordinary."

Kyoya was much too exhausted to question any further (or to shove her to the floor as he originally thought was an excellent Plan Two). He walked back over to the bed and eased himself down, wondering if he could sleep now...

"You know, you're really fun to bother."

"Hmm."

"You're not easy, mind you."

"Right."

"Right." She turned over toward him and sighed sleepily. Kyoya's furtively glanced over his shoulder at her, all scrunched up like a squirrel. "Do you know what Tamaki told me once?"

In spite of himself, he asked, "What did he tell you?"

Setsuko giggled airily. "He said you're happiest when you're angry. You know, challenged. I thought that was just about the most curious thing I've ever heard..."

Kyoya swallowed and fought his growing bodily urge to move a muscle — any muscle. He remained perfectly still. He noted that her facial expressions had dulled and her breathing became even; her pretty pink eyelids were fluttering so slightly.

"But anyway... I thought it was nice... so," she yawned. "So I thought that if I can make you a little bit angry... or frustrated or embarrassed... maybe I could relieve some of your boredom... just a little bit..."

He watched her until she stopped moving.

He tossed his glasses on the desk and ground his knuckles into his itchy and burning eyes, battling back every crushing urge to shout until the windows were pulverized and his tongue fell out of his mouth. _Why did tonight happen? Time have gone directly from yesterday evening to tomorrow morning and I wouldn't have done something like that..._

Kyoya growled to himself, reliving it over and over. The taste of her mouth, the pathetic little noise she made against his tongue, how she gently pushed hers forth, kissing back and her _skin_, warm and red everywhere. A sticky residue of cherry lipgloss clung to his lips. Kyoya wanted so much to erase these things from existence. He wanted to erase them, even though it was admittedly quite nice, kissing her. But he wanted it erased nonetheless.

He gandered at the clock which read just past nine o'clock. _So early._

He swiveled in his chair once more to get a look at Setsuko. _Setsuko_. She had just fallen asleep. _She _remained perfectly sane. It was unfair. What right did she have to waltz into the bedroom and wail on the floor like some perverted kitten? What right did she have to leave him in this state? Pupils dilated, moist palms, every inch of skin covered in goosebumps and his entire body shaken from the core.

Setsuko. _Setsuko._ On his mattress. Using his pillow. And his comforters. Now they would all smell like cinnamon and icing and cake batter...

And strawberries, probably.

* * *

><p>AN: Confession — I think that if Yuuji wasn't in love with Maria and Yoshio wasn't so uptight, the two of them would get it on and have amazing sex. Then Kyoya would have a sassy gay dad... and... is that wrong?

Anyway, please leave a review :)


	15. Playing Cupid

A/N: Thank you to everybody who read the last chapter! Man, it's been a ride. I thought writing the last chapter was a very fun experience, I really did quite enjoy depicting that last scene. Kissing scenes are normally a big challenge. But anyway, I hope I nailed it! Thank you and I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

><p>Chapter 14: Playing Cupid<p>

The next afternoon in the Host Club, the Black Magic Club was assisting in the daily theme.

The walls were draped with black and navy blue upholstery with orange-ish wax candles glowing from the brackets mounted on the walls, like a dungeon. Each table had a golden menorah ignited with dimly glowing candles that emanated peculiar smells and twinkling smoke in prismatic colours, purple and red. One member was giving tarot card readings and another, predicting the future in a murky crystal ball. One was brewing a cauldron full of love potions and beauty serums.

Kyoya thought Black Magic was a fake, but the customers were easily seduced by such a cheesy thing and he also enjoyed the fact that Tamaki was terrified of a large portion of the members. Specifically, the new president.

After Nekozawa graduated from Ouran, his successor took over the club. Katsumi was freakishly tall and waxen with a black velvet draw-string cloak. She had thick fringe in front of her eyes and the rest of her extraordinarily long black hair was in a python-like braid down the side of her body. Katsumi carried a great staff with shingles that rattled when she moved and a large five-pointed star pendant on the top. She seemed to glide across the floor like a phantom, instead of walking. That was likely what scared Tamaki.

Regardless of being scared out of his wits, he along with the rest of the hosts, was dressed much like a vampire himself in various dark shades of red and black. Tamaki himself lurked in a corner next to a candle, nervously darting his eyes around the room, looking for Katsumi. As tall as she was, she had a tendency to hide herself.

Kyoya relaxed himself in the large throne that had been specifically placed for Tamaki to perform the role of the darkly enchanted prince before he had grown to be frightened of it, because he claimed to have seen Katsumi mumbling a chant and sprinkling malodorous salts around it's perimeter.

_All the better, _Kyoya thought. _The King's throne is always the most comfortable seat in the house._

For the first time in about three weeks, he was not preparing for the banquet.

Instead, his mind was maundering among much less favourable subjects. Like how his neck was aching.

Kyoya wound up collapsing of sleepiness in his own computer chair and awoke with his neck at a ninety degree angle to his body and his spine in the shape of a croissant. Needless to say, he blamed his afflictions on Setsuko.

_She _seemed to have slept splendidly. In _his _bed.

_Perhaps I should make her take responsibility... what I wouldn't give for that massage right now._

But to even have conversation with Setsuko that day was bordering on unendurable. A simple conversation on the weather triggered an upsurge of unpleasantly pleasant memories of their kiss.

And all _that_ did was remind him of every little embarrassing detail of the night that he was struggling to bury; the little breathless noise made when she finished moaning his name or the way he thought her eyelids were beautiful when they were half-closed or how they were mere inches from being on top of one another, _everything._

To make matters infinitely worse, when Yuuji arrived at the mainhouse in the early morning, Kyoya was forced to make eye-contact and charming discussion and pretend that he _hadn't _had a vicious sexual encounter with the man's daughter.

No. The day had not been smooth-sailing.

"_I _would like to know my future," somebody announced haughtily. "I would like to know about my _love _life in the very near future, if possible."

Kyoya peeked over the throne to see Setsuko making a magnificent spectacle of herself by taking a grand stance in front of the crystal ball and batting her eyelashes shamelessly. The member, a heavily pierced girl with violet hair, sneered in annoyance.

"The ball will show what lies in the future. Perhaps you _have _no love."

Setsuko seemed to consider this for a second, then bowed her head. "My, my~ let's hope for the best then, hmm?" Kyoya saw a flash of sapphire glint in his direction.

He whipped back around, feeling a scowl etch its ugly lines into his face. _I should have known she would enjoy today's theme much too enthusiastically. What a pain._

He had the queer sense of being watched, which proved to be true, for when he glanced around the chair once more, Hunny had seemed not to take his eyes off him for a second. It was strange, but Hunny's caramel-coloured gazed was quite unhinging; after all, he always _was _much too perceptive for Kyoya's comfort (Kaoru and Haruhi, in addition).

There was a long pause in which the pierced-girl said a few mystical incantations to the crystal ball and prayed to some unknown deity before finally imparting, "Yes, there is something..."

Setsuko eagerly leaned forth in her chair, squinting to make out shapes from the nebulous, swirling grey mass inside the glass ball. "What do you see?"

"I see that today, the temptress will triumph in love. It is your lucky day... to wear black."

There was an explosion of gabbling from the girls surrounding.

"Isn't that remarkable?" Kaoru exclaimed. "The temptress. I think the crystal ball knows you, Setsuko-chii."

Kyoya's head began to throb. Kaoru continued in an increasingly nasal tone, "At any rate, I think that's wonderful. I _wonder_ who the lucky man is?"

Much_ too perceptive. Haruhi, too. She knows. Mori, probably. Perhaps even Hikaru has sharpened, _he deliberated. _At this point, Tamaki is possibly the only fully-functioning human who does not know._

Tamaki remained cowering in the corner, now with his own oversized baton clutched in his fists for protection.

Setsuko whistled innocently. "I wonder..."

Just as Kyoya was on the verge of flipping the throne to the floor, he felt a presence coasting along his side. Katsumi had appeared with her cloak enwrapped around her body, with her scepter clamped in her left hand; the feathers and hollowed shells that created the shingles jangled with sounds like tribal instruments. Katsumi was built like a skyscraper and it was apparent when she loomed over him, bearing her somber aura which gave the appearance of an extra five inches.

"Kyoya-san is not having his future predicted."

"No, I am not."

"You do not believe?"

"I'm afraid I do not," he said. "My preoccupation with Black Magic will subsist for a mere twenty-four minutes more, after which, I will likely not involve myself with such arts. You understand."

Katsumi grimaced. "I understand you. You'll bleed every situation for everything its worth and that's the first priority. But I advise you to heed my words. I see many things about you without the use for tarot cards or crystal balls. I have clairvoyant vision with my eyes alone."

"Right."

"You should not be so quick to shun the Dark Arts. I am an oracle."

Kyoya scoffed and rubbed circles into his temples with his index fingers. His headache was only intensifying with every piece of nonsense that was being thrown in his direction that day. "That's all very well, however, I do not need my future predic-"

"I know what plagues you," she interrupted. "I know what ails the soul of Ootori Kyoya."

He rotated in the throne to face Katsumi and her gloomy countenance. "Is that so?"

"I know what you do not admit. You are internally disturbed. You are _not _ailed by your headache, nor your _neck._"

Kyoya rolled his eyes. "I hope that isn't supposed to impress me. I have been touching my neck unusually often this afternoon, therefore, anybody who is observant enough to notice such should be able to have that conclusion. Continue, though."

Katsumi made a quiet hissing sound through her teeth. "How, then, would you explain that the common observer knows of your real affliction?"

"Please, enlighten me."

"A woman." She swept her arm in the air, the serrated sleeve of her cloak like a curtain of drooping seaweed. "A woman is the object of your ire."

He felt suddenly stiff. "Any... _fully-functioning_ being in this room could foretell such. You, of course, have a defining quality which makes your hypothesis any more sound than the next person?"

"Not a hypothesis," she said. "Hypotheses leave room for doubt. This is fact. A woman vexes you."

"A woman vexes every man."

"An incurable curse, I know!" she exclaimed, tossing her arms into the air. "But _your_ dilemma is one most troubling; you are in love with the woman you hate the most. And you hate that. You hate the inconsistency of your male mind and your insides boil because you cannot stand her nor stand without her. But be warned — relief is far. You have much to fear, Ootori Kyoya, like the serpent's slippery tongue of greed and deception and the three stars of your devastation. In these times, you must take heed!"

Kyoya groaned softly to himself. Katsumi's paranoid babbling had become static in his ears and only exacerbated his every bodily ache. He rose from the throne and rounded on her, nearly eye-level (she was taller). "Look," he asserted. "You would do well not to force your superstitions on others, specifically, me, for I am not as dim-witted as the run-of-the-mill gullible commoner who very well may believe your obscure prognosis, but excuse me if _I _am a little more than dubious. Katsumi-san, I don't believe you are any more psychic than I am. You are sensitive to your surroundings and, at best, an excellent judge of character. Forgive my rudeness, but I will be discontinuing this pointless discussion now."

He side-stepped her and tread away in the direction of the changing rooms, without exactly understanding why. Still, he did not return, even as Katsumi remained hissing, and thumping and rattling her staff, ("You'll regret this!")

He snuck between a gap in the curtain of the changing area, attempting to be as inconspicuous as humanly possible.

What he wanted was confinement — not the foolish, love-sick prattle of every simpleton who seemed to cross his path. He wanted one private moment...

However, that was almost never the case in the Third Music Room.

Haruhi had just arrived and was costuming herself, pulling a high-collared cape over her Gothic-style outfit. She seemed to be having issues with the large gold buttons on the suede vest when he paced into the room.

"Kyoya-senpai," she acknowledged.

"Mm."

"I'm sorry I'm late," Haruhi apologized. "I took extra time to study..."

"We can manage without you."

"Haa. I'm not sure about Setsuko-chan, actually. I think if I don't bring her a carrot cake soon, she'll die," she reckoned.

Kyoya bristled at the mention of the name. He sat on the nearest stool and rapped on his black binder impatiently. "It's exhausting to watch such a large number of people spoil her as much as we spoil Tamaki, which in itself is reprehensible. But by all means, cater to her."

Haruhi pivoted to face him, apparently startled. Then, she grinned. "How rare."

"Excuse me?"

"How rare it is to see Kyoya-senpai this angry. It feels like a different dimension."

He furrowed his brows. "Forgive me if I do not see the novelty of it."

The brunette shrugged. "I'm not so concerned. Kyoya-senpai won't let anything bother him for too long. Right?"

Haruhi had that slender-eyed gaze, that insightful stare that sometimes she had that let him know that there was at least one other rationally-thinking being present. Kyoya heaved a sigh.

"Hmm," he breathed.

Haruhi flashed him a smirk and sauntered out of the room, allowing him to stew in his own annoyance.

_It's funny, _he mused. _I've always thought that if I ever fell in love, it would be with Haruhi._

Haruhi was shrewd and sensible; she had the ability to be sharp-tongued but was always as prudent with words as he believed himself to be. A scholar student, a dependable woman, the prime example of outstanding marriage and child-bearing material. Not to mention that Haruhi was quite the eye-pleasing specimen.

_And yet... _He gritted his teeth.

And yet he had evidently fallen for Setsuko.

Setsuko.

A demon. The Anti-Christ. The Anti-_Haruhi_.

_How annoying._

* * *

><p>A chandelier hung high above the dance floor, reflecting its kaleidoscope colours in the shape of crystals against the stone. On the far wall from whence they entered, a large tapestry of abstract artwork was spread; the colours and brushstrokes of it reminded Kyoya of Autumn, like wilted and decaying leaves, freshly fallen and crisp. There were circular tables everywhere dressed in white sheets, each already with a centerpiece of flowers and gold sculpts, silver platters and fine silverware. There were several dozen balconies above, exclusively reserved for the V.I.P, including Yuuji and Yoshio themselves.<p>

The banquet hall was everything Kyoya envisioned.

They had just arrived, Kyoya, Setsuko, Yoshio and Yuuji, along with the Hosts who gazed in reverence at the grandeur of the hall. Setsuko loudly marveled with 'ooh's and 'ahh's, twirling around in the large open space on her tippy-toes.

"It's perfect, Father!"

Yuuji chortled. "You think so? I'm glad! You still haven't seen the theatre, though. I can lend you the keys, though it should be unlocked. Later, you should go show your friends."

"Really?" She sprung across the floor, landing with a pirouette and a leg extension in the air. "I will, then."

They had come from the Ootori mainhouse by method of several town cars. Yuuji had just previously proceeded to send an onslaught of hugs and kisses to unsuspecting Akito, Yuuichi and Fuyumi who had entered the house to prepare themselves for the party, which, in hindsight, was unwise.

He cherished the four of them as his own children, so naturally, these reunions were merely standard procedure.

Although he always had considered him as a second father in return, Kyoya was beginning to regard Yuuji as an affection-starved Aunt who insisted on leaving sloppy lipstick kisses all over his face.

"Ehh, this is spectacular..." Haruhi muttered to herself, absorbing the luxurious hall. "I guess one should expect nothing less from an Ootori party."

Yoshio made a curt humming sound to himself. Kyoya knew that meant approval. He always _did _like Haruhi.

"This establishment is more a testament to the Abukara Enterprise's glory," he said. "I am merely renting it."

Yuuji's face became brilliantly red with pride. "You flatter me, Yo-san. But in any case, all this talk must be boring the young ones. There is more than enough time before the banquet, why don't you eight go and play?"

"We would," Hikaru said. "if mommy didn't have work for us."

Kyoya pondered, then, "None. All the work is completed. The six of you may relax."

"Eh? Really?" Kaoru chorused sarcastically. "After you've been working us to the bone for weeks on end?"

Yuuji let out a loud, hearty laugh and clapped Kyoya on the shoulder. "That's expected of an Ootori son! You run a tight ship, Kyoya-kun. You and Yo-san are the very same, slave-drivers."

Setsuko made the snorting sound of a person trying to suppress a year's amount of laughter. "Tell me about it," she whispered snidely to herself.

"We'd be happy to go play if Setsuko-chan would be kind enough to give us a tour," Tamaki said hastily, trying to diffuse what he knew would soon become an uncomfortable situation.

"It would be my pleasure," she replied. "But I hardly feel qualified to be considered an expert of this establishment. You see, I've never spent a night here."

"Really? That's strange since it's your father's."

"He's the..." Setsuko paused. "the protective type. Which brings me to my request. Daddy?"

Yuuji tautened. He chuckled sheepishly and rumpled his own scruffy hair. "Yes, Setsuko-chan?"

"I want to stay in a suite tonight, Father."

"I don't know about that," he responded hesitantly. "Maybe it would be better if you returned to the mainhouse..."

She pouted. She grabbed handfuls of her skirt in bunches, swinging it back and forth, the mesh falling around her creamy thighs. "But~! I thought it would be fun for tonight. Like a sleepover. All of my friends can stay over too! Everybody will share rooms."

Kyoya could see Tamaki itching to yell in excitement, but even he knew to chastise himself in the presence of two important men.

Setsuko clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "Hikaru-senpai and Kaoru-senpai can have one room, Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, Tamaki-senpai and Haruhi-senpai... and then Kyoya-san and I!"

Tension was suddenly lain thick in the air. Haruhi and Tamaki were stiff as boards and Tamaki looked as though he could asphyxiate; his face was now turning to a questionable shade of purple.

"H-ha-haa-haaa, n-no, that's not really, w-we don't—"

"Eh? I thought you and Haruhi would want some privacy? Why not, Tamaki-senpai?"

"Oi, Setsuko-chan, don't just make incriminating declarations as you please..." Haruhi deadpanned.

_Incriminating declarations, indeed, _Kyoya scraped his molars against each other, seething.

Yuuji spluttered with discomfort, "You and Kyoya-kun sharing a room?"

"Why not?"

"Setsuko-chan!"

"It's not like we'll fool around. You trust us, don't you?"

Kyoya knew that Yoshio's keen eyes were scrutinizing the both of them. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, awaiting a reaction from his son. His mind seemed to be malfunctioning, for he could not formulate a suitable response. Moreover, Setsuko did not seem to have a malicious ulterior motive, which was decidedly more concerning, for it meant she had either gotten considerably better at hiding her motives or that she had genuinely snapped and was now a clinical lunatic.

"It isn't that I don't trust you..." Yuuji twitched neurotically.

"Then?"

"Then..." he cleared his throat, and mumbled to himself as if he were having a private conversation. Finally, "then... then it should be alright. For one night..."

Yoshio scoffed, drawing attention to himself for the first time. He shot a sharp glance to Yuuji. "Yet again, you've demonstrated your lack of backbone."

Setsuko smiled. "Please, Yoshio-san. Don't worry about the two of us. And, Father, I thank you. I'm excited."

"D-don't mention it, d-darling." Sweat began to glisten on Yuuji's brow as he stuttered.

"Kyoya-san, do you want to go choose a room? Bedsheets? Towels?" Setsuko asked.

He wanted nothing more than to throttle her into a limp spaghetti noodle, but thankfully refrained long enough to utter the words, "If you wish. I shall make the reservations for four rooms. Each with two beds. I hope that will be satisfactory."

It may have been a trick of the light, but Kyoya thought he saw a commending look from Yoshio.

"Ohh~! Two beds? How disappointing!"

Just as Yuuji looked as though he were about to object, Yoshio muttered harshly into his ear and escorted him in the opposite direction, shucking him toward the exit as he yelped back, "You kids be careful! _Two _beds, you understand me!"

"Wait," Haruhi interjected. "We're going through with this without my consent?"

"But Haru-chan! Haven't you and Hika-chan already shared a room before?" Hunny exclaimed. "On the snowboarding trip... remember?"

Hikaru simpered. Lately, he took more enjoyment in harassing Tamaki than anything else. "Isn't that true? I guess I have the upper hand on his highness."

"Th-that's a different matter!"

"Is it, though?"

"A completely different matter!"

"Maybe Tama-chan should spend the night with Haru-chan... then you'll be even?" Hunny said.

The King looked reluctant with each of their seven faces anticipating his response. Kyoya did not interfere. If anything, he thought spending one night with each other might finally tip the scales and one of them would eventually confess.

_Setsuko knows this. Setsuko __planned_ _this._

He knew it too. He knew it all too well. Because Setsuko had taught it to him.

There was something about aloneness with another person that caused one's consciousness to heighten, he discovered, and over the course of around two months, he'd had an _abundance _of such with Setsuko. In fact, in the beginning, he thought he would very well suffocate in the consciousness, and the quietness, and the proximity.

But gradually, the consciousness waned and what was left was Setsuko, and Setsuko's body, and Setsuko's hair, and the adrenaline-like sensation that coursed through him when each of the aforementioned was so crushingly close. And hand-in-hand with that adrenaline-like sensation came recklessness and absence of thought — the same forces which possessed him to kiss her, he presumed. The same forces which made him want to kiss her again, possibly_._

For Tamaki, it would be much simpler, he thought. Tamaki did not need to touch Haruhi to suffocate. In fact, Tamaki was constantly on the margin of combustion, just being in the same room as Haruhi.

_Very dangerous business, a fool in love._

Kyoya approximated a mere five days before one or the other confessed.

"I'll do it," came his sudden response.

Haruhi gaped. "Eh?"

"I'll spend the night with you. If Hikaru can do it, I can."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"Nope~!" Setsuko cheeped. "We'll be reserving rooms now. Shall we, Kyoya-kun?"

The two of them exited the banquet hall toward the lobby, leaving Tamaki and Haruhi behind to squabble, Tamaki as determined as only Tamaki could be and Haruhi as defiant as a two-year old child presented with a plate of brussel sprouts. He was not fazed, not in the least.

As they approached the front desk, Kyoya watched as Setsuko's smiley demeanor dissolved into near nothingness, as he was accustomed to.

When she realized he was staring, she gazed up at him hazily. "What is it?"

"You did that on purpose."

"Did what, Kyoya-kun?"

"You asked to stay in the hotel specifically for Tamaki and Haruhi's sake, if I'm not mistaken," Kyoya said as he adjusted the frames of his spectacles.

Setsuko's grin stretched only slightly. "And why would you say so?"

"Please. Do not underestimate me." He halted in walking. "You aren't so sly that it is not apparent when you are mission-oriented. There is the remaining question of _why_ you have done such a thing, however."

"_Such a thing,_" she mimicked. "You make it sound as if I have defied all Ten Commandments."

"Well, I'm positive you have done that."

"Still, how are you to know that my mission was not related to Tamaki and Haruhi?" she asked. "Isn't is a possibility that I wished for you and I to share a room?"

_That was the less favorable possibility, _he thought bitterly. Suddenly, those bothersome memories of their kiss permeated his mind again in a most dominating fashion. It became difficult to concentrate. "I don't believe that was your intention. Unless, of course, you're madly in love with me and I've won."

"Love does not equal sex," retorted Setsuko. "Maybe _that _was my intention."

"Doubtful."

"Really?"

"Indeed," he said. "For once, that seems quite uncharacteristic of you. Is it so wrong for me to believe you were doing them a favour? Giving them privacy, that is."

Setsuko smirked. "Not at all. However, I was thoroughly convinced that you thought I was Satan incarnate."

"I do, in fact."

"Hmm. So contradictory, Kyoya-kun."

He rolled his eyes and continued his way to the front desk, where a very frazzled employee was scuttling around, hastily dialing phone numbers and scribbling on scraps of paper. She had the appearance of a squirrel scurrying about for nuts.

"Right. I'll be reserving rooms now. Only one other question."

"Proceed."

"Why was it so important for you to grant Tamaki and Haruhi with privacy?" he posed. "If I do remember correctly, you were in pursuit of Haruhi, herself."

Setsuko chuckled. "Who knows? Perhaps I felt like playing Cupid."

"I imagined a more complex answer."

"Well, these things are not always so. It may surprise you, but not everybody hunts for the benefit in every circumstance as you do; I, for one, am not so self-seeking. And in any case, you should know by now, Kyoya-kun, that I act on my whim," she explained.

He pursed his lips. "No. That is untrue... you knew before you came that you would say everything you said, exactly as you said it. You knew before you ate breakfast, you knew before you even woke up this morning, didn't you?"

It was happening — sweltering frustration churned in his gut as he realized that, once again, Setsuko had thought five steps ahead. He did not believe for one second that anything she did was not carefully engineered. Because that's what she did. She liked to be frustrating, liked to frustrate him, and _loved _to watch.

She raised her eyebrows in delight. "Hmm... that would be quite spectacular of me..."

"Spectacular. I'm not sure if that's a word I would use."

"What would you say?"

"Psychotic, maybe," he grumbled. "Anyway, I can only imagine the hell that they'll go through tonight. You'll be the one to blame for it."

Setsuko grinned. She lifted her arms and pantomimed shooting an arrow like Cupid himself. "Blame? Hardly. By the end of the night, he'll have confessed. At the very least, it'll be an accident. Whether it be accidental or on purpose, it's worth it, even if it's messy or clumsy or kind of stupid, like I know it will be, considering that it's Tamaki-senpai."

_No matter if it's messy,_

_clumsy,_

_or kind of stupid,_

_it's worth it._

Kyoya rumpled his hair from the back, making sure to give it a few decent yanks to rouse his senses. "Quite. In any event, I now must book hotel rooms, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Hmm. Kyoya-kun?"

"Yes?"

"Get us a nice room."

He blinked, blank-faced. "Mm. Very well."

* * *

><p>AN: Woah, short chapter... Leave a review?


	16. Pieces

A/N:

IMPORTANT:

I've changed my pen name! I used to be _ryomaeijiarehot_ but now I am _The Sky Is Not Always Red._ I was so reluctant to change it because I've had it since 2006. I was 9 when I first made my account and that's how people identify me. But it's so juvenile, obviously, because I was in grade 4. Still, I have so much attachment to it. 2006 is kind of a long time ago. That user name has been with me for so long and my writing has grown so much with it... hm.

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: Ruin<p>

"Wah~! Setsu-chan! It's so pretty!"

"Isn't it? I haven't performed here yet, but when the new season comes..." she trailed off into a contented sigh. "It might be nice, don't you think?"

Hunny nodded fervently. "You would look good on the stage, Setsu-chan."

"Would I?" Setsuko swaggered down the aisles between the maroon red seats, swinging her hips and eventually leaping onto the stage and bowing as if surrounded by masses and masses of people at curtain call. She even went as far as elegantly extending her arm in the air and waving like Miss America, blowing kisses and mopping imaginary tears from her eyes.

They had taken her father's suggestion and explored the empty theatre.

Only Hunny and Mori opted to come as Tamaki and Haruhi were still in various elevations of states of discombobulation (Haruhi, probably being at a six on the scale from one to ten, and Tamaki, easily, at a precarious eight and rising), Kyoya chose to remain in his suite to prepare for the banquet, and Hikaru and Kaoru mysteriously disappeared only thirty minutes previous, which wasn't uncommon for the twins.

The stage was relatively empty, save for a toolbox that somebody had left. The backdrop was that of a milky twilight with a gentle mixture of sunny colours, yellow, red and a mellow shade of orange that reminded Setsuko of the flesh of nectarines. Suspended by wires from the rafters above were four great wooden carves — three were childish imitations of stars, glittering golden five-pointed stars, and the fourth was the sun painted with a medley of warm shades, with wavy rays like octopus tentacles around the edges. It hung directly in the middle.

She swayed to-and-fro, letting her arms go limp. "What do you two think? Swan Queen? Juliet? Or Titania?"

Hunny followed her on to the stage, stretching his own body to its fullest possible height. As they were normally the same height, Hunny strained and just managed an extra centimeter. "Juliet! I can be Romeo, of course~!"

"And Mori-senpai? Mercutio, maybe? Romeo's best friend who meets his tragic end? Or Benvolio, the Montague cousin?"

"I'll stay in the audience."

"So bashful," she said. "But that's why the two of you go together so well, right?"

Mori did not reply, but a vague shadow of curiosity and amusement passed over his sharp features.

Setsuko walked carefully along the edge of the stage with her arms outstretched like she was tiptoeing on a balance beam. "What I mean... Hunny-senpai can always talk enough for the both of you and say what Mori-senpai doesn't. And Mori-senpai is always there for Hunny-senpai too, always. It's romantic. You two complement each other."

That was when she noticed that Mori was grinning a grin that was very soft, almost unnoticeable, but quite there. The shock of it almost knocked her off balance.

"I don't think about it like that," Hunny remarked. "Takashi-kun is Takashi-kun and I am me."

"But the two of you _are _supplementary."

The blonde boy flashed a toothy smile. "Maybe~! Not on purpose, Setsu-chan."

She clutched at her heart dramatically. "By fate, then! In that case, it's settled. Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai _must _be best friends until death do they part, the Gods simply demand it."

Hunny laughed. Even Mori let out an exhale that sounded suspiciously as if it were concealing a chuckle.

"Don't you think you have somebody like that too, Setsu-chan?"

"Who could possibly supplement _me__? _I have a terrible personality, didn't you know?"

When he shook his head, his fluffy yellow locks moved independently; she thought his hair looked as weightless as cotton candy. "What about Kyo-chan?"

"Kyo-chan?" she asked. "Why Kyoya-kun?"

"It's the same." Mori spoke this time.

Every time Setsuko heard his vibrating, baritone voice, she was surprised. He spoke surprisingly gently for a man of his size.

"What is?"

"The same! You two fit together," Hunny explained, his cheeks a jovial pink. "Like Takashi-kun and me. Only... Setsu-chan says the things that Kyo-chan would _never _think of saying. And... and Kyo-chan is always there for her, too, like Takashi-kun. To protect her. To help Setsu-chan out of trouble."

Setsuko felt a pang of irritation, not toward Hunny, but in general. Maybe at Kyoya. Maybe at herself, as well. "He's a chaperone, so naturally, his duties entail such. I shouldn't be such a fool to believe in anything beyond that. It isn't in his capacity to do anything unnecessary for somebody else."

As she turned away from them, she caught a snatch in her peripheral vision of Hunny and Mori sharing a look, a knowing look.

"Mmm," hummed Hunny cheerfully. "I guess so."

* * *

><p>Since the clock struck six, a flow of guests had been trickling in from the mouth of the hall, accumulating into what was now a mob of social elite from across the country and further, the largest conglomeration Kyoya had seen in a while, and with increasing numbers. He stood at the door with a walkie-talkie attached to his belt alongside the ushers, inviting in familiar faces and wealthier names. Fuyumi and her husband, Akihiko, had arrived too, and he and Akihiko shared a look, as they usually did, as a sort of wordless salute. This was routinely.<p>

Every so often, he would pinpoint special guests, the notably affluent, and make mental reminders to provide them specifically with exceptional service.

Half of the balconies were filled with their respective guests, however Yoshio and Yuuji's balcony was empty. In this particular situation, it was perfectly acceptable for a host to be fashionably late. In any case, it wouldn't be like Yoshio not to dangle his guests on the threads of anticipation.

"Akagawa-san," Kyoya greeted genially a pointy-faced woman with a white fur wrapped ostentatiously around her body. _68._ _Widowed. Possesses the Akagawa fortune that dear old Shun left behind. Positively swimming in it._ "Pleasure to see you tonight."

"Oh, thank you, my boy." She was panting as if it were exhausting to walk through the door frame.

_She's getting old. The Akagawa's company specializing in security technology will be run into the ground when she's gone without a son. It will be plain devastation. _He was full of sympathy toward her. But for how much could sympathy cash in?

Then, next came the Englishman Mr. Aberline with his face as round and red as a ripe tomato, jolly as ever, then Kurosaki-san, as stony-eyed as Yoshio himself, and Signore Ferrazzano with his wife and children, and his daughter Giovannetta who eyed Kyoya amorously with her voluminous Italian hair framing her face.

It was a full house.

Most of the guests had arrived and Kyoya, along with the Hosts and waitperson staff, begun to wheel out platters upon platters of food upon silver trolleys. With all the flair that came with being a Host, they delivered the dinners and simultaneously mingled with the V.I.P.

It was simple, he thought. The night would go in Ootori Group's favour if it continued like this. The orchestra would play these spoiled old biddies into sleep and that would be the end of it.

"Kyoya," Tamaki whispered as they crossed paths. "They're here. Look."

He hadn't needed to. A sudden round of applause rose from all around as Yoshio and Yuuji stepped into sight on their balcony. Yoshio stood straight as a plank of wood, only nodding his head in acknowledgement, and Yuuji raised his arm to wave graciously. The head tops of Akito and Yuuichi were just peaking from over the rail as they stood in the background.

When the crowd fell silent, Yoshio tapped at the microphone clipped to his lapel and began his speech, meticulously scripted beforehand, of course.

"Good evening, loyal friends and colleagues of the Ootori Group..."

Kyoya was distracted as a flash of golden yellow flickered in the corner of his eye, a colour that reminded him of her hair. When he turned, the colour seemed to have been snuffed out of existence. Setsuko was not around.

He hadn't seen her since the afternoon in the lobby, but assumed that she had been in the suite. He'd been roaming the hotel instead.

"... and it is with sincere gratitude and pride that I present to you all the fruits of twenty years labor embodied by your audience and by the newest mental health facility..."

Kyoya continued with his work, keeping a furtive watch over the crowd for any signs of her.

When the speech ended, the applause exploded again, more deafening now, like the sounds of cannonfire from every direction.

Static issued from the speaker on the walkie talkie on Kyoya's hip. "Kyoya. Kyoya."

He picked it up, "Yes, father?"

"Come meet us. We must discuss something."

"Yes, of course."

When Kyoya arrived on the balcony, Yuuji and Yoshio were seated in two large, high-backed chairs, where they apparently had not been conversing. They appeared as royalty, sitting on their majestic navy blue cushions, on the lap of luxury but still with their sober veneers (Yuuji less so than Yoshio). Akito and Yuuichi stood erect like soldiers on Yoshio's left with muted expressions. Yuuji sat on his right.

He sauntered to stand before them, bestowing a formal bow. "We needed to discuss something, father?"

"I'll need you to attend to a certain guest when she arrives."

"Who?"

Yoshio smoothed his triangular beard. "The daughter of a Frenchman. Monsieur Descoteaux, who has made several contributions worth mentioning to the medical community, has brought his daughter over recently. He has expressed his wishes for Amelie to be acquainted with you as you are only one year her senior. As such, you will entertain Amelie Descoteaux for the night. You must be as charming and amicable as I expect of you, considering your Host activities."

_Be charming. Be friendly. Don't fail. _There was conviction in his voice, as always, and the smallest derisive scoff on the word 'Host'.

"Yes. That isn't a problem."

"She'll be late. I will inform you when she arrives, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" Yuuji made a high-pitched noise of exclamation. He'd been nearly lifting out of his seat, straining his neck to peer over the rail. He pointed to the dance floor with all the elation of an overly excitable child. "I found her! I found her!"

Kyoya spiraled round and found himself stepping toward the rail to gain a better view.

Onlookers whispered their gossipy little whispers about her, divided between envy and desire. _Her_. The girl in the corner.

Setsuko was standing on the outskirts of the hall, separated from the hordes of people but was drawing attention nonetheless. She wore a strapless black dress and black nylons, black silken gloves and black stilettos which lifted her an extra few inches off the floor. The only thing she wore which wasn't black was a glittering diamond headpiece, a tiara tucked into her yellow waves, which themselves were sleeked back into a beehive bun. With dainty hands folded neatly and pressed to her body, with one thumb impatiently windshield-wiping the other, she had the distant look of somebody who was waiting. With pink lips puckered and thick fan-like eyelashes batting and sweeping her white cheeks, she cast her eyes left and right and left again.

"...Kyoya? Kyoya?"

He turned. "Yuuji-san?"

"You blanked out there for a while," he pointed out with a smirk. "Everything okay?"

When he realized that he had, a faint heat rose to his cheeks and clutched around his neck. "Yes. Yes, I should think so."

Akito and Yuuichi exchanged confounded glances.

"Please excuse me, Father, Yuuji-san, my brothers." Kyoya made for the winding staircase but just as his hand met with the banister, somebody called back.

"Hey, Kyoya."

"Yes?"

"She's beautiful tonight, isn't she?" There was a hint of entertainment in Yuuji's voice. "Save a dance for her."

He swallowed, feeling much more uncomfortable than ever before. "I can assure you, Yuuji-san, I don't know who you could possible be referring to..."

* * *

><p>She was coming back from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne when they made eye-contact. He was pouring some portly old man's red wine into a goblet with a close-lipped, inviting smile that was so different from his usual goofy grin which typically indicated that he was about to do something stupid.<p>

His violet orbs seemed to grow millimeters upon landing on her coffee colored ones. There were a few prolonged moments of connection, but, faithful to her sentiment that he was a prize idiot, Haruhi abruptly turned away.

It was when their paths intersecting that he finally spoke. "Ne, Haruhi," he said, bottom lip curling into a pout.

"What do you want, senpai?" Her words were brusque and with spiteful intention.

"Haruhi-i! You can't be mad at me all night!"

"Sure, I can."

"No," he said imploringly. "You're just being stubborn with me again! Don't be!"

"Why not?" she shrugged, an air of defiance.

Tamaki clenched his jaw, then suddenly burst out, "Because! Because, because, becau-"

"Stop it immediately." A third, more wicked voice interrupted and it might have come from Hell. Kyoya scowled at the both of them. It made Haruhi want to shrink herself like a cowardly turtle into it's shell. It was almost unfair how Kyoya had that affect on people. "Do not make this unpleasant, get back to work or-" his high temper abated instantly when his eyes focused beyond either or them, following something else behind their heads. He muttered a few indiscernable phrases under his breath as he walked off, brushing Tamaki against the shoulder. Haruhi thought she heard, 'Katsumi' and 'shish kabob'.

Tamaki looked as though he could protest further, but Kyoya disappeared into a throng of people. Haruhi turned on her heel and briskly walked off, only to be seized no less than ten paces later. Tamaki muttered into her ear. "Ten minutes. Come to the back doors."

She knew that he was referring to the set of doors next to the platform where the orchestra stood. It led to a long, carpeted hallway with elevators at the end for guests' purposes and three other doors; one leading to the kitchen, one veering off into the lobby, and one emergency exit with a neon red sign.

The back doors, too, were patrolled by workers who had baskets filled with pink mints, ready to administer them as guests left to use the elevators.

What would she do if somebody were to see her with Tamaki?

_Am I so proud? _she wondered. _Am I so proud that I won't admit it?_

Haruhi spent approximately five minutes floating about the tables, remembering to be especially friendly toward the select guests which Kyoya had pointed out to her earlier.

_"If he did so, then allow me!"_

_"I'm not obligated to do anything," she returned. "This whole arrangement is just troublesome."_

But Haruhi was not a prideful person.

For exactly thirty seconds, she reminded herself this, over and over. As a commoner attending Ouran academy, to be prideful would be quite the accomplishment, what with her coffee and her ramen noodles being treated like ancient Aztec artifacts.

_But I am stubborn._

But does stubborn come with prideful?

_Too stubborn._

Probably.

_When Haruhi entered the room alongside Tamaki, she couldn't exactly fathom her own emotions. Whether she was in a good mood or a bad one, she was unsure. She was not nervous, this was certain. Haruhi didn't mind sharing a room with a male since gender was always a non-issue for her. The source of her displeasure, therefore, was lost upon her. Maybe it was Tamaki himself. It wasn't painfully difficult to __be_ _annoyed with Tamaki's over-enthusiasm, after all._

_He launched himself into the room with zeal, choosing the bed closest to the balcony. He relaxed onto the cornflower blue bedsheets and smiled at Haruhi. "Tonight will be fun, won't it, Haruhi?"_

_"Haa." She inched into the room reluctantly and sat awkwardly on her mattress. _We've already changed into our uniforms. Nothing left to do now but...

_"I was thinking..." he began. "After the party, we should stay up."_

_"Shameless indecency, senpai?" she uttered with a twitch in her eyelid. "Pervert."_

_"No, no! We'll stay up and_ talk!_ Setsuko-chan has given us a brilliant opportunity! We can get to know each other much better, see?"_

_"Won't we be tired?"_

_"A minor detail, Haruhi!"_

_She rolled her eyes at the way he was stupid, endearingly stupid, but stupid nonetheless. "Tamaki-senpai. Are you sure you aren't just competing with Hikaru? That's being way too possessive, you know? I don't belong to you."_

_"It will be no competition," he added crossly, sticking his nose up._

_"You missed the point," Haruhi deadpanned._

_"I got the point."_

_"Did you?"_

_"I did," he said. "But even so, it bothers me to know that he's spent the night with you and I haven't."_

_Haruhi huffed, immediately springing back to her feet and rounding on him. "Like I said! I don't belong to you, so why should it matter if he's done something that you haven't? Why does Hikaru matter?"_

_"It matters." Tamaki muttered gravely. "If he did so, then allow me!"_

_"I'm not obligated to do anything," she returned. "This whole arrangement is just troublesome."_

_He combed his hand through his hair, his face screwed up into a kind of bitter grimace. "I don't see why it's so complicated to talk. The suggestion of it is outrageous to you! I don't understand."_

_Haruhi gritted her teeth. "Because! I already told you. It's troublesome."_

_"Is it troublesome? Or is it scary? To be intimate with somebody, is it scary?"_

_"I'm not scared of anything!"_

_"And you're in denial! You make a liar out of yourself, Fujioka Haruhi."_

_She gawped at him and groped her brain for any word which might unleash her sudden upsurge of anger, but found none. She whipped around and stalked sulkily for the door. "I'm leaving. And I'm_ not_ sleeping here tonight." The door crashed behind her._

It was one of those rare incidents when Tamaki's voice became bigger and undaunted and _accusing _and that was what must have angered her. Even now, it still hinged onto her, his voice and his accusation. Because when he wanted, Tamaki had his way of worming himself inside her brain and becoming a little pest, a little flea that hitched itself on that was impossible to ignore and impossible to exterminate; and he was _right. _He was almost always _right. _What could be worse than that?

Well, only one thing was worse than his right-ness, and that was that he used her full name and just _what _could be more unforgivable?

The latter half of ten minutes had almost completed and Haruhi was beginning to think that even if she disappeared, nobody else would notice. The disappearance didn't need to be long, she deliberated. Simply long enough to whack Tamaki on the head with a shoe.

At approximately eleven minutes, they met in the hall.

The boldness in Tamaki had obviously withered since, and he stood with a sort of apologetic demeanor. "Haruhi," he said, a bit sheepishly.

"Senpai."

They didn't speak but the orchestra filled in the silence. Though it was slightly muffled through the door, the greatness of the music they played was still palpable as it flourished, louder and louder, then diminishing into a sprightly kind of tune made for ballroom dancing, a tune that reminded one of swirling skirts and couples twirling in synchronization on the dance floor. Waltz with adonis.

"It's weird," he said suddenly. "I asked you here, but I can't remember what exactly I was going to say."

Haruhi released a breath that he did not know she held. "I expected something like that from you. Idiot."

"It probably began with an apology."

"An apology for?"

"For overreacting about Hikaru," Tamaki answered easily. "I'll admit that it was out of line. But I won't apologize for much more than that. I still think you're scared. Haruhi."

He approached her with all of his regal poise and stole her hands from her pockets. He firmly grasped one and guided the other to his shoulder. He placed his free hand on the subtle curve of her back. Then, as if it had been carefully rehearsed, Tamaki swooped Haruhi into the dance, waltzing her around the hall.

"Senpai, what would this look like if anybody were to witness it?" Haruhi asked, amused.

"Two boys enjoying a dance, of course!"

"Right, that wouldn't be cause for alarm at all."

They swayed with the music and Tamaki never took his eyes off of her.

"You _are _scared."

Haruhi didn't reply. He continued, "You've been alone your whole life. Haruhi is independent and reliable by herself. _Loving_ somebody, _wanting_ somebody, being _with_ somebody feels like surrender to you. As if it's evidence that you _need_ somebody.

"You don't want to betray your hard work and what you've accomplished alone. You don't want to admit that someday, you'll stand next to somebody and you'll share the load."

"That's-"

"What Haruhi needs to understand," he drew her body in closer. "is that the burdens are not all hers to bear."

Tamaki did not hesitate as he spoke and did not loosen his grip on her hand, not once.

She was rendered speechless for the second time that night. Not without good reason. After all, it wasn't everyday that somebody could so easily tell you something about yourself that you would have otherwise never known. Without a word, Haruhi remained in his arms, barely dancing but definitely too dizzy to be standing still. The room behind Tamaki was nothing but whirling colours and when the song ended and the two stopped spinning, they seemed to take shapes, but of wobbly substance.

Haruhi rubbed her eyes. _Why can't I see straight?_

"So," he said as they parted. "Will you be coming back to the room?"

She smirked. "A dance is the solution to all of our problems?"

"Haruhi-i! Are you still mad?"

The brunette grinned a coy grin that was so strikingly similar to Setsuko's, she had to admire it. "Not mad, senpai. But you _did _assume that I loved you, wanted you. When did I ever say that?"

Tamaki flushed. "Th-that was just—"

"A part of the speech, was it?"

As he stumbled over words and got redder and redder, he slowly began to resemble himself again; a downright fool. _Never was there a wiser one, _she thought with a private smile.

"Tamaki-senpai! It's time to get back to work now. Kyoya-senpai will send Katsumi-senpai..."

"Right, right!" he chirped as he darted for the door, obviously glad to have an excuse to leave. "It's busy tonight, super busy, we have to—"

Somebody slammed into Tamaki's torso as he opened the door, sending him staggering backward with the momentum. Haruhi saw that it was Setsuko. Her eyes were watery and her brow was furrowed in anger. Without an apology, she continued bolting down the hall, stumbling in her petite shoes.

Tamaki regained his balance. "Setsuko-chan! What is going—"

"Excuse me," burst Kyoya seconds later, shoving past both of them. "Get back to work!"

"Kyoya-senpai!"

"Now!"

Silently, they obeyed. The very last thing they saw before leaving was that Kyoya caught up to her...

* * *

><p>Kyoya approached the bottom of the staircase, keeping his eyes locked on Setsuko, as if to assure himself that she was still there, as if she could spontaneously vanish. However, on his way, he heard a clatter uprising from his right.<p>

"Haruhi-i! You can't be mad at me all night!"

_Tamaki! What bullshit is he pulling now? _Kyoya briskly marched over with one fist balled up, pumping at his thigh with every angry stride he took.

"Because! Because, because, becau-"

"Stop it immediately," Kyoya growled. He watched Haruhi blanch and attempt to reduce herself, refusing to meet eyes. "Do not make this unpleasant, get back to work or—"

Something snagged his attention. From behind Haruhi's head, he watched Setsuko aimlessly sauntering around the perimetre of the dance floor, lazily bobbing her head to the orchestral music. Still with that distant look. The waiting look.

The words that had collected in his brain mindlessly toppled out of his mouth in a string of nonsense, "...work... I swear... Katsumi... shish kebob." Hopefully, that was threatening enough. He promptly walked off, directly toward her.

When he stopped before her, Setsuko was not startled, rather like she was expecting him.

"Kyoya-kun."

"For the precious only daughter of the man hosting this party, you're a bit late," he remarked. "but you've certainly made an entrance. The ladies scowl at you like I've never seen before. Well done."

"I haven't noticed," Setsuko lied with a nonchalant shrug at the jealous crowd who waited for her to falter.

At Kyoya's appearance, the gossip heightened, what with the solid facts on the table: first, that Yoshio and Yuuji were famous friends, practically brothers, second, that a business-born lady like Setsuko was to be married off, corresponding with a second and third-born son's duty, to marry and bear sons, and third, that Kyoya and Setsuko had been spending quite a lot of time together, according to students who attended the academy as well as the banquet. Many said that an arranged marriage was being organized by their fathers that very night, while some disagreed by saying that Kyoya had already secretly proposed and that the engagement was a need-to-know matter. Some even further disagreed — they said that they had been betrothed since birth.

The engagement story had long since stopped bothering Kyoya. He'd been hearing it for years, far before even meeting Setsuko in person, and so it mattered less and less with time. It wasn't long, Kyoya thought, before rumours of eloping began to sprout.

"I noticed you earlier, Kyoya-kun. You on the balcony with my father. Having a magnificent conversation, I presume?"

"Your father hardly partook, Setsuko-san. It was merely an exchange with _my_ father. Political, really. Such things wouldn't interest you."

"Right. Politics," she repeated. "You're correct. I am not interested in such a mundane topic. What is more interesting to me is whether or not _you've _noticed."

"Noticed?"

"Noticed what I'm wearing." For his sake, Setsuko did a full body rotation. "Black. I've dressed completely in black tonight."

Kyoya _had _noticed, but the black had been rather insignificant. What he _did _notice was the way that her pearly skin against it was a pretty contrast, that the stray strands of blonde curls at her temples were just lightly kissing her cheeks and that even through her black nylons, he could see the outline of every curvature in her legs.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, but I cannot say that I understand the significance of black."

"_It is your lucky day... to wear black!_" Setsuko mimicked the fortune teller in a ghoulish voice, fluttering her fingers sarcastically. "You know? That was the prediction that I got. If I would like to be lucky in love, I would be rewarded with the colour black. What do you think of this? I've done exceptionally well sticking to the prophecy, haven't I? I'm even wearing black panties."

He scoffed. "You shouldn't be so carefree with such information. Also, whether or not you'll be lucky in love is far beyond my comprehension, or anybody else's for that matter. You should know very well that I'm not a strong believer in the supernatural."

"Perhaps you don't need to be, hmm?" Setsuko giggled as if they had just shared an exclusive joke. She then stuck out her gloved hand. "Now, now~! I'm utterly shocked at your manners, Ootori-san. We've been chatting for a fair sixty seconds and you've not asked me for a dance. A lady is easily offended. You must be more considerate. Ootori-san."

He wasn't paying much attention, but did manage to hear at that moment the dulcet squeals of the strings in the orchestra begin a tango.

Taking his cue, Kyoya gently clutched the tips of her fingers. "Excuse my rudeness. Simply, I thought it impossible for a man of my height to dance with such a little lady. Only a _half_-lady, really."

"Shut up."

"Language," he reminded mockingly. "In any case, it may be difficult, but I must manage. Your father mentioned that he would like to see us dance."

Setsuko pulled an animated face of false devastation. "My Lord! Ootori Kyoya-san is heartless. Only offering to dance with me to appease my father, you're a self-satisfying dog, Kyoya-kun."

"Did you ever have doubt, Setsuko-san," he snaked his arm around her body and whisked her onto the dance floor in one effortless motion. "that I was anything other?"

"There are a number of other things that you are. A snake, a rat, a demon—"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he whispered sensually into her ear, letting his mouth drop down to her neck, not touching but feeling her heat against his lips.

"Don't," she breathed. "They're watching."

_Father. Yuuji-san._

Accompanied by the violin yodeling along with the bandoneón's harmony, with fathers just barely on their minds, Setsuko and Kyoya danced.

They tangoed with their frames rock-solid against each other in a mixture of coiling arms embracing, sharp stiletto kicks and twirls. Hands met hands, and hands met skin, and hands threatened to never release as they dragged along his body, her body. _Keep control of yourself__, _he mentally cautioned and purposefully created a gap of distance between Setsuko and himself.

"Oh, please, it's impossible to dance from this silly distance," she whispered.

"There are people to please tonight, Setsuko-san, _other _than you."

"What a shame. I was looking forward to being pleasured."

"_Pleased_," corrected Kyoya sharply.

She closed the spaces between them, placed her hands on his nape and lifted her leg to waist-height, wrapping it around him at the joint. "Is there _such_ a difference?"

Kyoya dipped her so low that the back of her heels scraped the floor. "I should think so. Furthermore, you're too _casual. _Your leg, for God's sake. There are children present."

"Never you mind the children_. _Do _they_ still watch?"

Without looking, he knew the answer. "It shouldn't matter. Father and Yuuji-san would not be so concerned. After all, it's an innocent dance."

Setsuko flashed a devilish smirk. "What, may I ask, is so innocent about the tango?"

They spent the last notes locked in position for an anticlimactic finale, but all the same, found smattered applause from few onlookers who managed to witness what must have looked like an ordinary dance.

As they stood, something quite peculiar caught his eye. About a dozen yards away, he saw something shifting beneath a staircase that led directly to a balcony; a slightly hunchbacked figure dressed in a champagne dinner jacket, though whoever it was was so massive that his broad back made him look like that of a gorilla in uniform. A redhead. The redheaded boy (or was he a man? He was caught somewhere in between and Kyoya couldn't differentiate from this distance) skulked in the shadow of the staircase. The longer he stared, the more Kyoya realized that this boy-man was staring back.

Just as he realized this, the redhead emerged from beneath the stairs, fully exposing his surly, muscular face. Without acknowledging Kyoya, he slunk off along the wall, eventually meeting with another worker who was pushing a trolley stacked with filthy dishes.

For mere seconds, the redhead intrigued Kyoya. _Do I know him? _Kyoya was quite informed about the waitperson staff and this boy-man-whatever certainly wore the hotel uniform, but he couldn't properly place him. Yet, he _had _to have been working there, because there was something vaguely, very vaguely, familiar about him and his oafish mannerisms, the impolite sneer on his face.

"... Kyoya." Static screeched from Kyoya's hip and drove thoughts of the redhead out his mind momentarily. "Kyoya, please respond."

"Eh~? A walkie-talkie," Setsuko exclaimed, snatching the device from his belt. "Yoshio-san? Can you hear me, Yoshio-san?"

"Don't play with my equipment," scolded Kyoya.

Yoshio didn't reply but after a few moments of faint, static-y chatter, Yuuji's voice exploded from the receiver. "Setsuko-chan!"

"Father!"

"Oh, darling, you look like an angel tonight! Che bella ragazza!" Yuuji made an appreciative kissing noise into the speaker.

Setsuko grinned and waved toward the balcony upon which she knew Yoshio and Yuuji were seated. "Thank you, Father. You look quite dapper yourself."

"Ah, dear! It makes a father so proud to — what? Oh. Kyoya-kun?"

Kyoya, who'd given up on stealing his walkie-talkie back, sighed. "Yes, Yuuji-san?"

"Yo-san wanted me to tell you that Amelie has arrived."

_I nearly forgot. _Setsuko looked at him quizzically. "Who's Amelie?"

"A guest," he said. "I'll need to be excused. Thank you for the dance."

"What if I should wish to meet Amelie too?" she asked loudly. "I'm the daughter of the man hosting this party and so, rightfully, I should be acquainted with all the guests, wouldn't you find this statement correct?"

Kyoya droned, "I sincerely don't know where you're going with this."

"Simply as I stated."

"Right," he said. "If that's the case, then I'll need to greet Mademoiselle Amelie unaccompanied, though I thank you for your kindly proposal. Enjoy the banquet, Setsuko-san."

He saw her rebellious glare before he turned and made his way to the door. _It would simply create a new realm of trouble if Setsuko is involved. It's no shock that that shrimp has an obsessive inclination toward it, trouble, that is. _Though perturbed he was by the fact, it was somewhat amusing (in some twisted, masochistic way) that he had fallen in love with that trouble...

He did not need to go so far, because the moment he heard the speaking of rapid French, he knew he'd found her.

Amelie Descoteaux was a thin girl with sharp features, most noticeably, an angular jaw which might have chiseled from stone. Her auburn hair was pin-straight and it bobbed inwards at the base of her neck; he couldn't help but notice how it flounced back and forth with her head movements. She seemed to notice him at the precise moment he did her. She was conversing in French with a tall, dark man who wore an earpiece and a tuxedo and when she spotted Kyoya, she strode in his direction with her wispy, silvery ball gown trailing behind. From a closer distance, Kyoya could fully appreciate her long legs and long, slender arms.

Kyoya bowed respectfully. "Mademoiselle Descoteaux."

She brightened the moment she saw him clearly, her eyes travelling him in the same way that Setsuko used to. She spoke in heavily-accented English. "Oh, I was 'oping zat zat was you, Mister Kyoya. I was not sure."

"The same cannot be said from me, Mademoiselle. There is no chance of a man ever overlooking a Parisian beauty like yourself, even in a room full of women. And please," he added."just Kyoya should suffice."

"Oh, okay," she said. "Zen just, err, Amelie for me?"

"Certainly."

"Err, we go...?"

Kyoya glanced briefly at the man standing vigilant behind her. "Only if I have the proper permission?"

Amelie waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, eez no one. Eez my chaperon, 'e eez friendly."

He offered her his arm and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Kyoya escorted Amelie to an unreserved table, as he had not planned on her attendance (which did slightly scorch the perfectionist in him). When Amelie sat, she didn't so much sit as she did perch, so lightly it looked as if she were not even touching the chair. It reminded him very much of Setsuko when he first met her.

"Can I get you a drink, Amelie?"

"No 'sank-you. Ze limo offered me some water, eez fine."

"Then, would a dance satisfy?" he suggested.

Amelie smiled, revealing pearly, flawlessly aligned teeth. "I would just like to sit, please. Would you be so kind?" she said as she gestured to the seat nearest her.

Kyoya complied and within a minute, they were having the same conversations that he'd had a million times with other wealthy girls that he needed to impress for Yoshio's sake. 'How was your flight?' and 'Tell me about where you live' and 'The veal is excellent, I strongly recommend it'. It was thoughtless drabble. Thoughtless drabble, yet for some reason, it had a guaranteed success rate.

They were discussing the quality of the commoner service industry in Japan when out of the blue, Amelie leaned forth on the table, tracing shapes on Kyoya's forearm. "You know, my _fahzer,_" (Kyoya's English was not perfected, but he was certain that she'd meant 'father') "'ee never told me zat zere were such 'andsome boys een zis country."

In that instant, he had a strange, somewhat shuddersome feeling upon seeing her flirtatious gaze — with that jaw and those features, it wasn't difficult to be reminded of Eclair Tonnere. Still, he politely smiled. "A truly marvellous compliment to receive from somebody of your exquisiteness, Mademoiselle."

Whether or not Amelie fully understood him, what with their two accents clashing, she blushed and laughed very softly. Evidently, she had a very feminine laugh. "Zat eez very bold of you, Monsieur."

"Oui, Monsieur, très courageux!" A third voice chimed in, if not a bit hostile. Setsuko had strolled over, feigning innocence, smiling pleasantly at Amelie. "Mademoiselle Amelie?"

" 'Oo eez zis?" asked Amelie snobbishly as she straightened her posture as if to make herself infinitely taller than she already was. "She eez so familiar with you?" Immediately, Kyoya saw a growing dislike.

"Ah, je m'excuse," said Setsuko. "Je m'appelle Setsuko. Enchanté."

Kyoya had never seen two women with such wicked stares, especially within seconds of meeting each other, on National Geographic, maybe, when it came to two lionesses in territorial battle. However, they were not lionesses and would not dream of attacking each other with their teeth and claws (or so he hoped), nevertheless, a battle was waging. Without understanding a single word of French, he knew that psychological warfare had begun, solely by the way Amelie's eyes flared and by how bitterly Setsuko smiled as she eased herself down in a chair across the table, forming a very tense human triangle.

"And she sits down... eez impolite, no?" Amelie muttered, casting a disparaging glance across the table, but generally keeping her gaze on Kyoya. "Eez a friend? Your friend?"

"My friend, yes," he replied rigidly. _Who I will very well murder tonight when I get the chance..._

"Une amie spéciale," said Setsuko.

Amelie smiled sarcastically. "Oh, I see. Very nice."

There was one, long strained space in time in which nobody said anything at all and the silence only further agitated Kyoya. _What does she think she's doing? She'll ruin it._

"Oh, Amelie," said Setsuko tauntingly. "Kyoya est trés beau, n'est-il pas? Les cheveux noir et les yeux gris... c'est magnifique, no?"

_What in the world is she saying? _He swore he heard his name. "Setsuko-san. Be civil, please."

" 'Er French is very bad, n'est pas?" was how Amelie responded, apparently not having heard Kyoya. "She doesn't even know what she is saying. Stupid girl."

Setsuko shot upwards out of her seat. She was smiling wider than ever now, too widely, her eyes in furious blue slivers now. "I sincerely apologize, my lady. If my French was so awful, you should have said something, I'll be quite glad to speak in English. I'm very accommodating that way, didn't you know?"

Without missing a beat, "So loud for a girl 'oo eez so small."

"Pardon me, my lady?"

"Like a..." she looked up in the air as if the word might be hanging there. "a puppy? Err, chihuahua?"

Setsuko pursed her lips until they were but a thin pink line on her face and waited for ten whole seconds during which she inhaled deeply, as if the air was some sort of sedative. Afterwards, she sat down again with a firm hold on her temper, smiling like a sane person once more. "You're quite the comic, Mademoiselle. And fairly eloquent, too. I rather _am _like a chihuahua, aren't I?"

"I think our group would benefit from some drinks," said Kyoya hastily. "Champagne? Amelie, Setsuko-san?"

"Champagne? Eez zat legal here?"

"It will only be one glass. After all, it's a celebration tonight."

"And of course," inserted Setsuko. "It isn't as if Kyoya-san has never participated in a good round of underage drinking. I've watched him swig an entire bottle of beer before. He's no lightweight."

_I'll kill her, _he thought darkly. _I'll strangle her. I'll make it look like an accident, I swear it._

Amelie had the expression of somebody who had smelt something particularly foul. "Hm. Eez distasteful, 'ow she speaks. Like a trucker, so American."

"Distasteful, perhaps. But perhaps not unbearable. Kyoya-san doesn't seem to mind." Setsuko fiddled with the loose curl from her temple. "You know, you would never know from taking him at face-value, but he's actually quite the lady-killer."

"Setsuko-san," he warned.

"You know what I love the most about Kyoya-san?" she said, unsmiling now. "Kyoya-san? My darling dear pudding schnookums, little sex melon, Kyoya?"

"Setsuko-san. Desist."

But it was far too late. Setsuko was leaning half-way across the table, staring Amelie straight in the face and uttering the words in the same way that a serpent hisses in the face of it's prey. "I love. The way. He. Kisses... c'est incroyable!"

Amelie gasped indignantly, this time, staring at Kyoya. "Eez a friend! Oh, she eez a friend! You lie."

Before anything more could be said, Setsuko was gone. He watched her stalk through swarms of people and eventually speed into a gallop, towards the back doors.

Kyoya stood. "I am Setsuko-san's chaperone, nothing more. Please forgive me, Mademoiselle. I have to excuse myself. I'll return."

"Go zen," she said scornfully. "_Fetch._"

He was only torn for a second about whether or not he should follow her. It was much more important to remain with Amelie and if Setsuko was being the incorrigible, spoiled brat that he knew her for, there was little point in following, but in a split-second decision, he chased her across the floor. Above all things, Kyoya wanted to yell. And loudly.

He trudged across the floor, gaining speed, his mind racing with all the nasty things he was prepared to say to her. He watched her burst through the back doors and knock somebody over in the process.

Seconds later, Kyoya ran through the doorway and saw that it was Tamaki who'd been the victim and that Haruhi was standing dumbfoundedly in Setsuko's wake.

"Excuse me," he said gruffly, nudging Tamaki unintentionally. "Get back to work!"

"Kyoya-senpai!"

"Now!"

Kyoya strode briskly down the hall toward Setsuko at the elevators where she was frantically pressing the button. She let out a yelp of shock when he caught up; he immediately seized her shoulder and shoved her against the wall.

"S-stop it, Kyoya-kun!"

"Why?" he said, shoving her once more. "What are you going to do about it? I'm bigger than you, how do you plan to stop me?" He shoved her continuously, every single time she tried to escape, and each time she smacked the wall with a satisfying thwack. He didn't use much force; only enough to keep her still, not nearly enough to hurt.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Let me go, I want to go to my room."

"Don't you mean _our _room? The one that you insisted on? No, I don't think I'll let you." Kyoya shoved again, harder.

"Why not? Stop it! Let me go!"

"_No._"

The elevator doors opened with an electronic bell and Setsuko scrambled into it, Kyoya after her. Before anything could be done, the doors sealed and they were officially trapped for the next sixty seconds, to the thirty-third floor.

"Leave. Me. Alone," she panted. "Don't you have to meet... _Mademoiselle?_"

"Indeed, I _do _have to meet Mademoiselle Amelie. In fact, it is your _fault _that I am not currently _with _Mademoiselle Amelie."

Setsuko stomped the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "I have not _asked _you to _escort _me to my room, you may go to your lady, for your father's sake, Kyoya, _please _do."

"And ignore what shameful display you just put on? Did you think I would simply tolerate that behavior? What the hell were you thinking? Monsieur Descoteaux is an important affiliate and you may very well have fucked. Everything. Up. You had no business to —"

He stopped dead in the middle of his sentence when he noticed that Setsuko's breathing became choppy. Her face was cast toward the floor and he could not see it, but he was positive that she was tearing. In the next instant, this proved to be true, because when she lifted her face, he could see in the elevator light that glittering tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I apologize, Kyoya-kun. My intention was not so dark," she said surprisingly calmly. "I'm not an angel. I'm not a devil either. I have fears, I have anger, too much anger for my health, and I have _just_ as _much _jealousy as any other women and you so easily _forget _that. This is what I am. This is what you get."

The fury inexplicably erupted in him all over again and he clasped his hands around her face, jostling her. "I didn't _ask _for this. I didn't _want _this." He kissed her on the mouth with more violence than what was necessary. He kissed her again, and again, and again.

He kept his hands clutched around her the entire time, halfway between throttling her and holding on to her for dear life. In a way, he figured that that was what real love was. A limbo between desperate wanting and one's common sense screaming for the logic in it all, screaming out, _Are you crazy? _The answer, if you truly are in love, is almost always 'yes'. Love, he thought, was about balancing all the want and the need with what little common sense was still left while collecting the rest of your pieces, trying to figure out a way to make them fit, more importantly, a way to keep them bound together.

They barely broke away from each other, not even when they stormed into their hotel room and tumbled onto the mattress. Within seconds, she'd slashed him out of his tie, vest and shirt, and herself out of her shoes, gloves and stockings.

Evidently, Setsuko was a biter. She bit his earlobe and his neck and left a row of teeth marks on his stomach as she kissed every inch of his body, creeping toward the hem of his pants. He succumbed to his pleasure and released a low moan.

And then the telephone rang.

They both sat up, gasping for breath.

Setsuko shook her head. "Ignore it, just ignore it..." she said just before their lips met again, this time, with a new-found sweetness that he wasn't expecting, what with the biting... Kyoya was more than inclined to ignore it, ignore anything, for that matter, for as long as he could feel her heat.

It continued to ring. And ring, and ring...

And it did not stop.

With slow and dreadful realization, Kyoya and Setsuko backed away from each other, Setsuko's eyes wide with terror.

She jumped off the bed, tremors making her legs quake. She tentatively answered the phone, managing to croak, "H-hello...?"

No more than three seconds later, she let out a scream, "Fuck!" and she ripped the cord from the telephone, letting the voice fill the room from the speakers.

"... no doubt recognized my voice. How are you, darling, Setsuko? I thought it would be nice to let you know, if you and your dead-beat father are concerned at all, that the two of you are miserably fucking ingrates."

It was the grainy voice of a man speaking relatively calmly. He sounded like nobody very extraordinary, but the words struck fear and repulse in Setsuko as she recoiled further, still from the telephone.

"Maria crashed her car into a telephone pole about five hours ago, my dear. Swerved right into it. Impacted on the drivers seat door; windshield totalled, whiplash. She's in the hospital, in intensive care, if that's important to you. But you know what's really hilarious about it? Before she went for the drive, she gave little old me a nice little phone call. Oh, Maria _cried_, my dear. Mostly about you. And how you wouldn't even answer a _fucking phone call _from the woman who raised you. I wasn't surprised. I always knew that fucking Jap would breed an ungrateful little bastard like you.

"I only call to tell you that you will atone for your crimes against her, Setsuko. Both you and that scum you call a father. You ruined her life together, you ruined the life of the woman who raised you... your... own... mother. Mark my words. It isn't over."

A click, and then the dial tone consumed the room in one, droning beep and all at once, Kyoya felt their pieces fall to the floor.

* * *

><p>AN: Leave a nice little review?


	17. Slippery Tongue

A/N: Thank you for all the support from the last chapter. I didn't actually expect it to be so long. The last portion took a lot of energy out of me to write. Haha, I'm not really sure why it did but it did, I was, like, severely exhausted after it. I wonder if it's equally exhausting to read it...

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><p>Chapter 16: Slippery Tongue<p>

Setsuko didn't bother to dress herself again. She didn't even seem to _notice _that she was only half-decent. She circled chaotically around the room, biting her nails and yanking her hair. Every now and then, Kyoya heard her terrified whimper nearly explode into full-blown sobs, but Setsuko properly held herself together. "Oh God... no..." He could hear her praying as she manically ransacked the room, searching for her shoes which had been tossed somewhere under some furniture.

"Setsuko-san, everything is going to be fine," Kyoya said with false certainty. When he grabbed her hands, he noticed how badly they trembled. Kyoya kissed them and tried to will them into sturdiness but they shook even more violently still.

"Let me go! I need to find my shoes!" she screamed.

Kyoya held on tighter, penetrating her with his stare.

"Setsuko-san. Get yourself _together_."

She winced at his roughness and seemed to instantly lose her voice. "I just can't find my fucking shoes... isn't that funny...? At a time like this and I..."

Setsuko was rattled to a point that was nearly frightening, but Kyoya knew very well that he had a responsibility to keep composure in this situation. He put his shirt on and, after scavenging the room thoroughly, passed a pair of slippers to her.

"We don't have time to stay here anymore. We'll go to Yuuji-san." He gingerly gripped her hands and pulled her along. "This will be sorted out," was what he said, even more assuredly now. It did not ease Setsuko's tormented expressions that were almost enough to make his stomach lurch.

_Keep your fucking calm. _He told himself. _Keep control._

Kyoya hauled Setsuko out of the room and down the elevator. They walked along the boundaries of the banquet so as not to be seen, but their shabby appearances attracted curious and dismayed stares. It didn't matter. At the moment, if felt like nothing mattered but talking to Yuuji. It was as if seeing Yuuji would be some solace (which Kyoya secretly knew that it would not be) and as if he could solve all their problems by magic (which Kyoya definitely knew he could not.)

Kyoya and Setsuko marched up the staircase, hand-locked until they arrived at the peak where Yuuji, Yoshio, Akito and Yuuichi spotted them.

"Kyoya-kun? Setsuko-chan?" Yuuji stood first, eyes trailing all over them in confusion. "What in the world is going on? What happened?"

Yuuji himself wasn't looking much healthier than either of them were. His face was waxen, his normally scraggly hair approached new lengths of manginess and his hands were like his daughters; jittering uncontrollably. Yuuji's surprise was hollow. Kyoya knew immediately — he already got a phone call.

"Fa... father..." Setsuko panted. "Mom is...!"

The expression drained out of his face. He collapsed into his chair.

"Yes, darling, I know."

"How do you—"

"The same way you found out," he said, massaging his temples. For the first time since he'd known him, Kyoya noticed the deep-seated lines in Yuuji's face and how frail they made him look.

Yoshio remained pokerfaced. He closed his eyes, thinking very hard.

Suddenly, Kyoya felt Setsuko's hand vibrating within his, but no longer from fear. All of her fear seemed to have melted away. Now, he could almost hear her seething beside him. "Right, let's all just sit around while my mother is _dying_!" she yelled. "That makes perfect sense! Just enjoy the rest of the party!"

"Please, darling, let me think."

"Why are you so calm? Why don't you care about her? Daddy!"

"Of course I care," he snapped. "Losing our minds won't help us, Setsuko-chan. Please simmer."

Setsuko was squashing the muscles in Kyoya's hand. It was going numb. "Talking like that..." she muttered. She switched her gaze to Yoshio. "You sound just like _him. _He brainwashed you, he's ruthless! He doesn't give a damn about us, about her!"

Yuuji shot out of his seat. "Setsuko! Don't you ever say a word against Yo-san! That man loves you and your mother more than you'll know!"

It struck Kyoya harder than Yuuji probably meant it to; he shuddered and felt goosebumps crawl along his skin. Using the words 'love' and 'Yoshio' in the same sentence gave him chills that he could not explain. The concept of Yoshio loving anybody was foreign. Though, on some level, he _must _love, otherwise, there would be nothing to make him human. But _was _he human? Could a human stay so calm in such a situation? Could a human remain unflinching at the tantalizing thought of somebody lying bloodied and mangled beneath a thousand pounds of metal?

Even at the mention of his own name, Yoshio did not move. He only stared at Setsuko. She sneered at him. "Loves me? Loves Mom? He doesn't. And if everybody loves her so much, than why are we all standing around? Let's go."

Nobody moved an inch.

Setsuko stared around confusedly. "Father? We have to hurry. We have to go to the airport, do we not?"

"Nobody is going to the airport."

It was Yoshio who spoke. Yuuji could not, because his bones seemed to have liquefied as he toppled into his chair a second time, looking like some pathetic houseplant that somebody forgot to water that had long since withered and crumpled.

"Now, Yoshio-san... we'll need to go visit my mother in the hospital. I'm not sure if you've heard, but she's had a terrible accident. I need to go visit her."

Nobody responded.

Setsuko's hand slid out from Kyoya's. "Yoshio-san? Father? We have private planes at our disposal, I believe it would be beneficial to use them now. Wouldn't you agree? Wouldn't you? Daddy?" She was becoming frantic.

"You will not be visiting Maria. You will be staying in Ootori mainhouse, on lock-down for security measures. You understand," said Yoshio. "Kyoya, take Setsuko-san to her room. Order green tea from room service, we'll foot the bill."

"Father," breathed Kyoya, who couldn't believe his own ears.

Setsuko seemed almost as if she just remembered that he was there. She faced him with her watery blue eyes imploring so desperately. "Kyoya-kun. Please. You can do it, can't you? Get me a plane. Take me to New York, Kyoya-kun."

_Don't you dare. _

"Kyoya-kun. I _love _you. Won't you take me? Please... I need it."

It was enough to make his heart melt and his stomach sick all at the same time. The insistent aching in her voice, low and so despairing when she said the word was almost too much to bear without crumbling at her feet. But he did not do so. He knew that Setsuko was very likely lying. He always knew that she wasn't above manipulation. Not one bit.

The shittiest part was that, empty though he knew the word was, Kyoya didn't hate to hear it from her mouth...

"Setsuko-san."

"Please. I love you. Kyoya-kun... I need a plane," she begged. "You can get me a plane. You can help me."

"Tell her. Kyoya." Yoshio laced his fingers and watched with a quirked eyebrow. _There is no love in that man..._

Kyoya gulped down a rather large lump in his throat. "I'm afraid to say that I cannot, Setsuko-chan." It was a blatant lie. He could have a plane landed on the very roof of the hotel in a matter of minutes at the dial of a phone number. That was no secret to her.

Setsuko shot him a hateful stare as if calling him 'traitor', but didn't pay attention to him nor the betrayal for much longer.

"Why aren't I going? _Why_? She's hurt. She wants to see _me, _Daddy, she said so."

"Who said so, darling?" said an exhausted Yuuji. "Did Mom? Or was it Theodore?"

"It doesn't matter!" Setsuko shrieked tearfully. "I'm her daughter! You have to let me go! Let me go! Daddy, why?"

Yuuji cringed. "Darling, please listen to Yo-san. He knows what's best. Get some rest..."

"I don't want _rest_! I want my Mom! We need to leave! I need to go New York now! She's hurt! She wants me, she wants to see me, she—"

She choked on the rest of her sentence and began to bawl into her forearm. Almost instinctively, Kyoya reached for her and found his hand smacked away. Setsuko seemed as if she were about to screech at him in outrage but only managed to hiss and fall into heavier sobs. Yuuji made a large movement toward her but was snatched backward by his coattails by Yoshio. Yoshio shot him a reproachful glance.

"Enough is enough," he said, standing. "This is foolishness. Nothing will be done this way. Kyoya - stay. Aoi!"

Their company's attention was called to a figure standing at the summit of the staircase. Aoi dropped like an anchor into a bow. "Yes, sir?"

"Escort Setsuko-san to her room immediately. Order tea from room service and under no circumstances will you leave her unattended, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Aoi saluted and guided Setsuko from the room by her elbow. She was too exhausted to fight any longer. Kyoya could hear him soothing her as they left the room, his quiet purring, "It's okay, young lady, it's okay... it'll all be better in the morning..."

When Aoi and Setsuko were out of sight, Yoshio sat again for such long minutes of quietness, aside from the din rising from the dance floor. No, not even that sound was very significant, not when drowned out by the high pitched whining in Kyoya's ears and his thoughts exploding so rapidly, left, right and center. They were barely comprehensible anymore.

Eventually, Yoshio ordered both Akito and Yuuichi to tend to the guests. A meager excuse for the three of them to have privacy. Still, it wasn't like an Ootori boy to argue with his father; both of them left quietly.

It was only then that he began to speak.

"For now, and only for now, I will excuse your shameful spectacle, Kyoya."

"Shameful, father...?"

"Your hesitancy," he said. "was contemptible. I wish to never see that again, Kyoya. When I tell you to do something, you will do it. The fact that you were nearly deterred from doing so by nothing more than a girl is disappointing. That is not the kind of person we need for the Ootori Group."

Under any other circumstances, Kyoya would have apologized profusely and crawled before his father's feet to kiss his shoes, but he had no time for that. No time to feel humiliation. He was positively buzzing.

"Father, what is going on?" he asked bluntly. "Yuuji-san? Nobody has made a move."

To his surprise, Yuuji responded. "Please. You simmer as well, Kyoya-kun. I know it's confusing but what everybody needs is to calm down. I'm so sorry for this mess... it's all my fault, actually..."

"What do you mean?"

"This is my fault," he repeated. "Everything she goes through..."

Kyoya wanted to urge Yuuji's pace but knew that it was best to let him air out his mind for a while.

When Yuuji finally did speak, agony renewed itself on his face. Kyoya hadn't seen him so distraught in months... "My boy. Your father and I have been telling you very large lies."

Yoshio let out an exasperated sigh.

"Lies?"

"We've lied," he said. "You were not intended to be Setsuko-chan's chaperone. It was much more complex than that..."

Kyoya became abruptly aware of his joints aching. He wanted a chair. He had the strange feeling that he might need one after what was about to be said.

"What was I intended to be, Yuuji-san, if not Setsuko-san's chaperone?"

Yuuji tangled his fingers into his hair. His bottom lip quivered as he said, "A bodyguard."

Kyoya suddenly became alert as all of his thoughts, which had been darting about in his over-encumbered mind, zoomed together onto one steady track; one that was fully attentive to the words that left Yuuji's mouth.

"A bodyguard?"

"Yes... I'm not certain of how much Setsuko-chan has told you, but... Maria has a brother."

"I've heard of him."

"So you have. And you would know what type of filth that man is made of?"

Kyoya square his jaw. "Indeed, I've been told such."

"Right, well. After Maria and I divorced, her brother, Theodore," he spat the name as if it were the crud between his teeth. "wasn't so pleased with Setsuko. You see, Ted is a bit of a fanatic when it comes to his sister. It's madness. If he had it his way, they would be inseparable. He must have sensed how upset she was.

"It became his new obsession of his to deliver her to Maria, some new, deranged way he can become her saviour. He and his minions stalked her for years to try and have her stay with Maria... of course, they were very secretive about it. Not that anybody linked to Theodore and his organization _wouldn't _be secretive. Fortunately, our own Abukara spy network was able to find out early enough. They managed to keep a comfortable shadow over the whole thing. Setsuko had no clue. I made sure that she remained that way.

"When I discovered that she had been sneaking out at night to parties, around when she turned fourteen, I couldn't sleep easy. Any moment that she walked the streets could be the moment that she would be seized from beneath us. I knew... kidnappping was their objective..."

Yuuji stood and paced back and forth. Yoshio followed him with his eyes.

"Anyway, the tip of the iceburg was when Ted was spotted at the theatre, _my _theatre, when Setsuko was rehearsing. That could have been the last time I ever saw my daughter. I didn't know what to do."

Then he gazed back at Yoshio with a look that rather startled Kyoya; it was a look of the deepest admiration and love. Kyoya had never witnessed a man staring at another man so dearly. "Thankfully, I didn't make any decisions... as always, Yo-san stood behind me. He offered his own house and his own protection. He offered a hundred men behind Setsuko and a hundred more in front. I'll tell you this, my boy, he was prepared to raise an army against Ted and anything he could throw at us but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't."

"I don't understand. What couldn't you do?"

Yuuji furrowed his brow in frustration at himself. "I couldn't let her know. How could I order a score of men to create a barrier around her? What kind of life would she live? She'd live in fear."

"But she'd be safe," he gushed forward unintentionally. "Isn't it more important that she be safe?"

"Kyoya-kun, one thing you have to understand is that Setsuko is a lot more complicated than we even understand. She's tricky. Like her mother, like Maria. She wants us to believe she's a woman. It's just not true. Underneath all those games she plays, she's still a girl. _Just _a girl, less than sixteen. She's a child. Now, how do you think this would affect her? To find out that she's been trapped in a war; that she's being hunted? It would shake her entire life. It would rip her apart. God, no girl could shoulder the world, Kyoya-kun, and _especially _not my girl! After everything I've put her through," his breath hitched and he had to take a few moment's repose. "I couldn't bear to put her through any more...

"So, instead of assembling so many to protect her, Yoshio offered up his most trusted."

Kyoya felt his skin prickling with his sudden upswing of importance. _His most trusted. _On second thought, he didn't quite believe that his father had used those words or anything even remotely close.

"Me. I was to be her bodyguard."

"Yes. We told you it was to keep her in. That was a lie. It was to keep everybody out. I'm so sorry we couldn't tell you. It wasn't because we didn't trust you. It's just that we wanted it all to look as natural as possible. If anything were to let her know that something was wrong, her whole life would be a stand-still. Besides," he said. "I didn't want you to treat her any differently. It's always been my dream that you two become friends. Since before the two of you were born, it was my dream and I didn't want anything to ruin what you two could have. And more than anything, I trust you... I so trust that you can protect her. That's why we chose you, Kyoya-kun."

He saw Yoshio murmur something tersely into his walkie-talkie and then turn to scowl at his companion, Yuuji. "Take your own advice and calm down."

In that instant, Yuuji burst into a wail and Kyoya thought he was weeping, but when he lifted his peaky face to the light, he saw that the teardrops were just trapped on his bottom eyelid, so close to watering over. "I just can't... my Maria..."

Yoshio did not soften. "Don't cry, you're an adult, for God's sake," he said as he walked over. He firmly planted his hand on Yuuji's shoulder.

Yuuji gazed back tearfully. "But Yo-san. My darling. My _wife._"

"She is not your wife. Your marriage was terminated. She is your ex-wife. You are not married anymore."

It surprised Kyoya that that was what calmed Yuuji down. It certainly was not the most important thing at the moment. Somehow, to Yuuji, it seemed like the most soothing words he'd ever heard.

He sniffled. "Yes, Yo-san... yes, I know."

"I sent a phone call to the hospital. With persuasion, we will be provided with information. Granted, quite limited information but you will find out whether she is dead of alive."

Yuuji sighed shakily, threatening to bay like a sick hound again.

"Nobody will be leaving this country. Not yet. Do you understand? You, along with Setsuko, will be confined to the Ootori household. Neither of you will leave until I say. If conditions do not improve, I will be the one to go to America. Do you understand?"

"Really? You, Yo-san?" he said, almost glowing. "Oh, bless you... again... bless you..."

"Get yourself together. Kyoya. Go retrieve Setsuko from your room. Have Aoi bring the car to the front. We will meet there," he stipulated. "And Kyoya?"

"Yes?"

"Gather up your clothes. Hers too. I won't have you stampeding through the banquet half-dressed." He stared pointedly at Kyoya.

Kyoya dipped his head only slightly before leaving. It did not feel like the time for formalities. Especially since they'd been caught. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered at this point.

The last thing he saw before gliding down the staircase was Yoshio drawing Yuuji closer to him, still gripping on his shoulder, the only comfort that a man could offer...

* * *

><p>Aoi guided her down the hall with one hand on the small of her back. Her legs felt like useless stumps as she trudged along. All her strength was gone. She felt so drained. Setsuko felt so powerless. Powerless knowing that somewhere in the world, a woman was being strapped to a gurney and rushed into intensive care. Or she was dead.<p>

They got to the room and almost immediately, Setsuko slumped to the floor and lied there, as much like the Earth's worthless dead-weight as she felt. Aoi crouched down beside her. "Young Lady, please. Don't be so sad. Everything will be better in the morning. It's time to sleep."

"Aoi. Please leave me."

"What does the Young Lady want to do?"

"I want," she articulated through clenched teeth. "to go to New York. And god dammit, I will. Leave me. And don't you breathe a word of this to anybody. I have to go quickly. Leave me, Aoi."

Aoi stood in alarm. "But Young Lady! You'll run away?"

Setsuko hauled herself off the floor, swaying in her lightheadedness. She stumbled about the room, collecting items she deemed suitable for her journey. "I'm running away... if they think they can keep me from my mother... even Kyoya-kun," she yelped his name. _Even Kyoya-kun... how could he do this to me?_

"Young Lady, I'll drive you. I can't let you go alone. Hurry. We'll sneak out the back."

She was thankful for him. "Right."

She wound up finding nearly nothing useful in the entire room but managed to stuff a couple canned drinks from the mini-fridge and a handful of bills from the safe into the satchel which held her clothes. _Good. Now, all I need is my passport and... my passport... my passport which is... at the mainhouse... _she remembered, white-faced, and almost smacked herself for stupidity. Yoshio confiscated all things necessary to escape. _Fuck me._

Setsuko let her bag plummet to the floor with a muffled thumped. "God. What am I doing?"

"Young Lady?" Aoi called from across the room. She could not see him while she faced the balcony; she heard his pounding footsteps as he approached her.

"What am I doing, Aoi?"

Setsuko sank to the floor once more, batting her satchel out of reach with one swipe of her hand. "I can't run away... what am I thinking? Father is already scared for mom... if I went away as well... I couldn't possibly. What am I doing..."

"I know what you're doing."

Something cold and hard prodded her in the back of the head as she heard a metallic click. She let out a shuddering gasp when she realized with unmitigated terror... The entire world around her blotted out like black ink on a page for a few muddled seconds until Aoi's chipper voice dragged her back into consciousness. "Young Lady. I know exactly what you're doing. You're taking this paper that I'm handing you and this pen you're writing exactly what the fuck I'm telling you. Don't you scream. Don't you even talk. 'Kay?"

She made a whimpering noise. He took it as confirmation.

Setsuko was quaking horribly, so much that she could barely hold the pen straight. Her writing wobbled and squiggled atrociously across the page, nearly tearing apart the paper. The barrel of the gun was thrust harder into her head. "Write. Better. Make it look natural, alright? Oh, and if you write in code, I'll blow your brains out."

_Please, no. I don't understand. Why? Why? Kyoya-kun. Help me._

After three attempts, Aoi accepted her letter. She, on her knees, stared into his face and could find no trace of the friendly, playful chauffeur that she once knew. She saw a snake with a slippery tongue, one who only answered to one charmer - a charmer who happened to be the scummiest rat to ever sit upon a throne.

"Ooh, Young Lady, you have a nasty look on your face."

"Eat shit."

"Ouch. Watch what you say." He smirked sinisterly. He wound his arm up and, with a sickening crack on impact, let the gun come down and strike her on the cheek bone, giggling maniacally as blood burst from the open wound. Setsuko screamed and Aoi laughed even harder. He cupped Setsuko's bloody cheeks in his hand and kissed her hard on the mouth as she moaned from pain. "You look stunning. Red is a good colour on you!"

Aoi howled with laughter and hoisted Setsuko forcibly to her feet as she began to pump her legs and thrash her arms in every direction, all the while, screaming as loud and long as her lungs would allow, "Let me go! Let me go! Don't touch me!"

Aoi single-handedly lugged Setsuko out of the room as she battled against him with all of her might, her entire body convulsing like she was having a seizure. She pleaded through her tears, shrieking and shrieking. Once in the hall, he dug the barrel of his gun into her forehead and enclosed one of his hands around her lips. "Don't you make a sound, now, my pretty dear, or the whole wall is gonna be the prettiest red you've ever seen."

Setsuko snivelled against his rough-hewn palm, begging for mercy. He angled her face up towards the light, watching her blood trickle as if admiring a work of art. "Goodness, Young Lady, how you bleed. You'll need some stitches. We'll sort that out when we get there."

_When we get where? _she tried to say. _Where are you taking me?_

He dragged her along with surprising strength for a man of his build and shoved her into the elevator where she slammed into the wall and withered helplessly to the floor. In one last stride of effort, she tried to make a dash out of the doors but stumbled and jammed her arm in between them as they closed. Aoi snarled, "What the fuck do you think you're doing!" and flung her back to the floor.

"Hey, if you haven't noticed, I'm the one with the piece," he growled. "So stay on the fucking ground! I said, _stay!_"

The elevator ride felt like mere seconds because in the next moment, Aoi was dragging her along the floor as she wriggled, a defenseless little caterpillar, and pulled back against his hand, begging quietly, "Please, stop! No! Don't do this! Stop! Let me go!"

A kick landed on her back and she yowled with pain. It wasn't Aoi. She looked into the face of her attacker and recognized him instantly.

_The boy from the beach._

Even without the sheen of the campfire upon their faces, Setsuko recognized both boys that she'd met at the beach, one, a bulky, apeish redhead and the other, an angry-looking brunet. Both were dressed in suits and carting silver trolleys. Had they been there the whole time? How had she not seen them before?

Aoi rolled his eyes and cocked his gun once more. "Don't just stand there, let's go, let's go!"

They followed his command and lifted Setsuko off the floor. Everything around her lurched as the world around her whirled and she desperately tried to make sense of all the colours, but she was so dreadfully dizzy. And so sick.

She heard a metal door flying open and Setsuko felt a burst of fresh air envelope her body. They hustled around in the darkness, muttering to each other. "Get the rope... tie her up, come on, hurry before anybody sees!"

"No, don't you dare touch me! I'll have you all killed!"

The pavement scraped her skin as she was dropped on it and wrestled by the redhead until he had her unskilfully tied in rope that burned her skin. They shoved a pair of putrid socks in her mouth and Aoi happily delivered her a crisp smack on the cheek. "Now, you'll shut your big, dirty mouth won't you?"

She screamed through the fabric and nearly choked herself, tears stinging in her eyes.

"The car is down there, boys. We've got a job to do."

Setsuko was being tugged along as her body twisted and rolled in protest but it was only causing her more blood and agony. Still, she couldn't stop. They were only in an alley. There were humans nearby. _Humans _who could surely help her. If only they could _see _her... _Please! Somebody save me! Kyoya-kun!_

She was thrown into the back of Aoi's car, joined by the two men as they piled in after her. She saw Aoi don his chauffeur hat and flash her an ironic smile before he sped off down the road, whooping at the top of his lungs.

"How does it feel, Young Lady?"

_Eat shit!_

"Don't you worry. We're just going for a drive around the block. You relax back there!"

They jostled about in the back seat of his car for what seemed like forever. Streetlights beamed through the windows as they passed them. Signs of life out there. There was life; there were humans. Humans who would save her. _If they could only see her._

Setsuko screamed pathetically from behind the socks on her tongue. Nobody could hear her. She could barely hear herself. She was as good as dead.

Eventually, she found her ray of hope.

Setsuko discovered that the longer she wiggled her wrists, the looser the rope got. Could it possibly be so simple? She spent the rest of the car ride squirming her ankles enough to loosen the rope, she hoped, but discreetly, so that the boys wouldn't notice. They weren't very much enthralled with her anyway. They were much more interested in whispering to each other about something or other.

_Please, God. If you can give nothing else, please release me from this rope._

Her stomach gave a toss when the car came to an abrupt halt. She was now aware of just how nauseas she felt...

"Alright, listen, we're here and," said Aoi. "I'm making the call."

_Are they leaving?_

"What?" exclaimed the redhead. "Who said you were going to make the call? We didn't decide that."

"I'm the one who grabbed her."

"We practically set this whole thing up," murmured the brunet. "One of us should."

Aoi's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He threw his head back in crazed laughter. "And should I allow that, the two of you would rip each other apart for the privilege." In the next second, all the humour was gone from his face. "I'm making the call, you sorry motherfuckers."

He left the car before anybody could argue any more.

"I hate that guy."

"Well, it's not like we can do anything about it."

"Like hell there is," the redhead sneered. "He's not the only one with a gun, you know. I'm sick of him getting all the praise when the three of us share the work in three ways... It's not like either of us are moving up any ranks with the Big Guy."

The other shrugged. "Whatever, I'm going for a smoke."

"Yeah. Shut the doors, though. Don't let anybody see the goods."

Setsuko almost vomitted at being called 'the goods' but was thankful when they exited the car and shut the doors. Her hands were still bound but her feet were free and that was just enough.

When she peered out of the windows, she realized she that they were parked just down the street from a convenience store and surrounded, otherwise, by darkened buildings. The boys stood in an alley and smoked cigarettes, not bothering to pay attention to her.

_To the convenience store. That's all I need. Then I'm saved._

She snaked her way out of the car, her heart hammering wildly. She even risked shutting the door, making minimal noise. They didn't notice.

Setsuko couldn't contain herself anymore; she dashed to her feet and ran, tumbling to the ground over and over. Everything hurt. She had no strength left to fight against all the pain. It was getting to her. She heard the voices in the distance. "The bitch is gone! There!"

Her feet pounded on the pavement, faster and faster, harder and harder. She took a detour into an alley just before the convenience store to confuse them but tripped over her own feet and toppled to the ground. _Something sharp! _she thought and she frantically searched the ground for anything sharp, anything... anything...

A rusty trash can gleamed at her, it's big, jagged metal edge looking like a godsend. Thinking quickly, Setsuko contorted her body uncomfortably and slashed at the rope on her hands over and over until the fibers were hacked away. By the time she was finished, her hands and wrists had long, ragged gashes in them.

That didn't matter. She finished just in time. They slid in after her, yelling, "She's over there!"

She stood and bolted for the chainlink fence at the end of the alley. Setsuko launched herself on and climbed on those metal chains though her hands burned against their cold steel.

Just as she reached the top, somebody snatched her around the waist and yanked her all the way back down. Setsuko came hurtling toward the ground with an agonizing thwack. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked at the boys who loomed over her, leaping to her feet again and sprinting for the mouth of the alley.

She didn't get very far, one of them wrapped his python-like arms around her and all she could do was try to buck him off like a mad bull. She felt her head smash against his lower row of teeth and he released her, swearing up a storm. The other knocked her to the floor in the next second with his tree trunk of an arm and she squirmed around, trying once, again to stand, but now her entire world was rickety and confused. When she finally stood, the red head snagged her elbows and tried to lug her out while the other clutched at her hair, panting, "Not so tough now! You better stay the fuck still, bitch!"

Setsuko let out a wail of anguish until her voice cracked and fell away. One of them kneed her in the gut and she keeled over onto the pavement, groaning. "That's what happens when you don't _listen. _Don't make another sound or we'll fucking kill you."

"Call Aoi," the red head said.

"No!" the other one snapped. "D'ya think we'll ever hear the end of it if he finds out she escaped?"

"Well don't you think he'd be back by now? He already sees she's gone! Call him! He'll deal with her!"

"Forget it! Besides," he added. "We'll just tell him we were taking the dog for a walk. Maybe she had to piss."

He rolled his eyes. "Pick her up."

Just as she felt the boy's arms shifting beneath her, she did the first thing she thought to do. _God forgive me._ Setsuko thrust her hands on his face and began to claw as hard she possibly could, tearing skin apart, ripping and scraping with her nails, screeching the entire time, "GET OFF!" She barely recognized her own voice; it was near demonic — no, it couldn't possibly have come out of her mouth.

He staggered backward, screaming in torment and holding his bloody face. Setsuko bound for the light at the end of the tunnel, scurrying without a second thought, because she knew that the red head would be coming for her.

But there was the convenience store. In reach.

Setsuko ran across the street and burst into the store, simultaneously crashing to the floor.

"Somebody..." she sobbed. "Somebody _SAVE ME!_"

She could no longer call for help, it hurt to speak, it hurt to cry, it hurt to _breathe_. Spittle dribbled from her limp lips as she lay sideways on the floor, jaw-slack, without the power to fight any longer. Her own blood percolated from her wounds and the blood of the brunet oozed onto the carpet from her hands, tainted with raw flesh. Setsuko stared down at them in horror at what she'd just done.

The convenience store was dreadfully quiet, the soft mozaik music crooning from the speakers overhead, punctuated only by the inconsistently loud humming drone of the refrigerators at the back. The flourescent lights were dull and blinking as if they could be blown out at any moment. It did not suit the way she felt; everything was so calm. By the way she felt, she could very well be standing next to a volcano erupting and perishing all at the same time.

But it was alright. Because she was _there_. She was_ saved_. She would go back home, far away from them...

Somebody came out from the back room and immediately hollered in shock when he saw her. "Ho-holy shit! Who are you?"

"Please save me..."

"Okay, okay, get up, miss, it's alright," the man rushed to her and pulled her up by the elbow. Setsuko drooped at his side. "Stand up, it's alright, we're calling the police."

"Call... no... Kyoya..."

The man left her to go to the telephone. He murmured into the speaker, his gaze shifting suspiciously toward her many times.

_Kyoya-kun. Come. Save me. Please..._

"You stay right here."

"Wha... where are you...?"

The man gave had a grim expression. He slowly went to the door and locked it. "I said, you stay here. Wait for them."

"N-...no! What? Why? Don't! No! Let me out!"

He closed the shutters and flicked the neon 'CLOSED' sign on the front windows. He bellowed back into the store, "It's alright! We're all closed up!"

"Wh... who is back-"

"Honey, I'm home~!" a familiar voice sang from the back door. _No... no, not him. _Aoi sauntered over and embraced her as if she were a lover. He kissed her passionately on the lips and gave a wolfish grin. "Young Lady, you're covered in blood. You can't face your dear old uncle like this!"

"Stop it!" she screamed, turning her face away from him, aghast. "Leave me alone, what do you want from me!"

Aoi giggled delightedly. "We don't need a single thing from you. After all, he owns everything. Or should I say everybody. Because you see, if there's one thing that Mr. Hale has greater than anybody else," he said. "it's numbers." At that, his eyes flickered to the convenience store owner. "Oh, terrific job, by the way, Akira-san! Mr. Hale will reward you nicely."

The man bowed and retreated back into his room.

"How kind of you to come to our reconnaissance point, my dear."

"_Please_," she implored. "What do you want from me? _What_?"

All of the amusement vanished from him. He gripped her very hard around the neck and whispered harshly into her mouth before he sank into a kiss. "_Atonement._"

* * *

><p>Kyoya read the note over countless times. It didn't get any less horrible each time.<p>

_You can't stop me from leaving. Don't follow me. Mom needs me.  
>-Setsuko<em>

* * *

><p>AN: Review? Please?


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